fic: The Courtship of Dragons (3)
Jan. 25th, 2022 11:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: The Courtship of Dragons (3/)
Fandom: FE10, but very AU
Character/Pairing: Ike/Soren, ensemble
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4,080
Summary: AU. Years ago, Soren was able to meet his mother again, but he never forgot the one boy who showed him kindness. Now, Prince Soren of Goldoa meets Commander Ike on the cusp of war. His attempts to woo Ike in the way of the dragon laguz are not entirely understood.
A/N:
This was going to come out earlier, (like for HT's birthday, then Christmas) but there were plumbing disasters, among other things. I'm still running late.
Also there was a fight scene I just...pushed to a later chapter. Kicking that can down the road.
Still for HT. Sorry it's late!
Two minor canon notes: This takes place mid RD, prior to Elincia's Gambit, and because Almedha went home, there's a role swap where Kurthnaga seeks Ena, not Almedha around this time.
Ena was grieving and didn't return to Goldoa. Nasir has been around trading.
Also @ all readers who have even a passing interest in Fire Emblem Heroes: Please vote Soren in CYL if you can. Soren has never gotten this close to placing before.
Dragons are given to much loyalty, and have a wondrous culture hidden away behind the walls of Goldoa. Many are given to scholarly pursuits in their long lives, and many wonders of art and beauty are hidden behind the walls. However they are stubborn and even in their politeness given to an almost extreme form of passive-aggression. The rules of Goldoa are an intricate sort that is often not vocalized. In the past, those who disagreed with the tacit moral code have chosen to walk among men rather than face the stony silence of shunning from their kind.
-from The Dragonkind of Goldoa by Lehryna the Wanderer as told to Sephiran Duke of Persis,
chancellor of Begnion and adviser to the Apostles.
II. Meeting
3 years later.
War was inevitable. Goldoa stood apart, as always. Something which Almedha warred with the king about. However, the second war was far away. Like something set in stories, a passing note.
Until the day that Kurthnaga came into the library.
Soren looked up from his book. Sunlight and dust drifted across the room lazily.
"You're leaving?"
"There is going to be a few dragons sent out to meet Ena and Nasir again. We will go within the beorc lands to bring them home. Nasir has made contact, and Ena finally will return to us again. I feel it could be good to learn. And I do miss Ena and Nasir dearly. You would not remember them; they last left long before you arrived."
Kurthnaga was too kind to say the rest. That Soren had been the price, and reason why Ena was there. Why Rajaion was there.
He didn't hold this sacrifice against Soren, but others did. Soren knew at some intrinsic level. Even if the dragons did not speak harsh words, he could sense it.
To Kurthnaga, Soren's entire lifespan might as well be a fortnight. Kurthnaga himself was over five hundred years old, and young for his kind. Some had barely neared adulthood at a thousand.
"Do you wish to come with me?'
"I hardly consider myself a practical ambassador," Soren said.
"But practical is what you do best. Besides, I'm sure Nasir and Ena would be gladdened to meet their family again after such a long time."
He could keep searching. He could make use of this short time to span at least part of the continent. Somewhere, he would be. And Soren would find him again.
And then what? Say a simple thank you? Swear an oath of loyalty? Repay a life debt?
For once, Soren didn't have everything planned out. Only that he had to find this boy again. Even if just once.
"I have a satchel packed. I will be ready shortly," Soren said.
"You were...already prepared to go?" Kurthnaga said uncertainly.
Kurthnaga's lower lip quivered.s He always wore his emotions so openly. Something Soren couldn't quite understand. Whatever differences between them, starving and being rejected by the laguz had worn away something in Soren until he was hollowed out and bitter.
Even at a young age, that bitterness had remained. Finding his mother and living at a castle had not softened his edges entirely.
"I dislike being unprepared. Besides, I prefer to travel light," Soren said.
"I see," Kurthnaga said softly.
Even that did not comfort him. But, Soren had no particularly kind words to reassure Kurthnaga. Not when he'd always planned to one day go past the massive walls of Goldoa.
Dasha rose from his seat. "Is there anything you need carried, Lord Soren?"
"No, Dasha. The satchel is not heavy in the least. If I need assistance, I will ask you," he said.
Dasha nodded. "I will gather my things. I have naught but my book of prayers, and an extra set of clothes. I will be ready as soon as possible to travel."
Soren nodded. There was nothing else to be said.
*
Almedha, however, did not take the news quite so calmly. Her voice echoed in the stone halls, like a roar. Behind her, glassware shivered and threatened to break.
"Leaving? How could you say such a thing? This is your home. I searched to the ends of the earth and brave the winter of that foul place to find you. The last thing I wish is to lose you once again to those winters."
"Almedha, there is no reason for alarm. I asked Soren if he would come to help find Ena and Nasir. That is all," Kurthnaga said soothingly. "Once we meet them, we will return back home."
"I must ask, why are we forming this group to meet her?" Soren said. "You never explained thoroughly."
"She was within Daein for some time, trying to find Rajaion. He was unable to be saved... She has been...grieving, and wished to be alone. Nasir stayed near the humans, near her, and kept to his selling. And she's finally coming home. And a good time, too, with the war going on."
Yes, there'd been words of an insurrection on the rise. Even the prince of Daein seemed on shaky ground at the moment. No wonder, he was said to be kind and well-meaning, yet unsure in his job. All which could have been good qualities in a person, but not in a prince.
"Grief, that is something I know intimately," Almedha said. "That poor girl. Of course, she would probably never wish to see me, even if I am her family."
"Sister... Do not say such things," Kurthnaga said sadly.
"She was Rajaion's mate. This will be on my shoulders for as long as I live. But, I cannot fully regret anything which gave me my son," she said.
"She would never blame you," Kurthnaga said.
"Kurthnaga...not everyone is quite so kind as you," Almedha said.
"What I wonder is why now? Ena has lived among the humans for years. She can pretend for a little longer."
"It is time for her to return," Kurthnaga said softly.
Almedha sighed, and turned her steely gaze to her son.
"So, you are completely set on this? Going with Kurthnaga and leaving the safety of Goldoa's walls.
"Yes," Soren said.
"Then I will go as well. I lost you once; I refuse to lose you again. Any who tries to take you from me will be torn apart. I may not be able to transform any longer, but I'll still rip the throat out of any which try."
Soren was used to his mother's threats to any who would harm him. He nodded. His things were already packed.
*
Soren brushed aside the dust. Certainly the elderly shopkeeper was lax in his duties. No wonder, he looked ancient--for a beorc, at least.
An amusing thought, considering that the youngest among the dragons were hundreds of years old.
The fact that they chose a bookshop to meet in must have been Kurthnaga's doing. He would have known that this was where Soren was most comfortable. He hated wasting time. And as the travelers arrived, Soren perused the shelves.
The entire shop was so packed with books that it was difficult to walk. He could've ordered it better himself, Soren thought.
Kurthnaga spoke in low tones to the shopkeeper. Mother was nearby, her hands folded.
Here was a book of spells, here of history....it would be interesting to see how the beorc recalled things, with their limited senses and short lifespans.
He had beorc blood too. There was no telling how it would affect him. Soren theoretically could not transform, though he had never tried. Mother said that the king of Daein had tried to make him transform as a child, but he was not monstrous for his tastes, and thus he had cast Soren aside.
Soren had no memories of him, and it was something he did not mourn the loss of. He had read of Ashnard the Mad King. A tyrant who had laid sack to Crimea, though he was hailed in his own kingdom for lifting up the common classes due to increased military building.
He caught sight of a red braid on the other side of the shelf. Dasha was silent, and reflective as always. He remained close, yet gave Soren a modicum of space.
"There's a book of prayers two shelves down," Soren said.
"Thank you, my lord," Dasha said.
He kept an eye upon Soren, but his long fingers traced the books titles.
Soren selected a book of history and pieced through the pages as they awaited the visitors. There was, after all, no reason to waste time in worrying. They would either reject him as most all had in his life, or they would be full of kindness, like Kurthnaga.
If Soren were a betting man--which he wasn't--he would bet on the former, not the latter.
"Ike, isn't it? I didn't expect to see you as well. You've grown."
"I remember you--Kurthnaga, wasn't it? I could say the same of you."
"Prince Kurthnaga," came Gareth's low voice, full of reproach.
"Don't mind Ike. Even after meeting princesses and empresses, he has no manners to be found," said a female voice.
"They're coming soon. Nasir was delayed by an issue with his boat."
"He hired?"
"The whole lot of us. He paid well, too."
Ike?
Soren peered beyond the bookshelf. Of course, there were many Ikes in this land. Many of them were not his Ike.
The boy named Ike he had known was barely larger than himself. He'd had messy blue hair, tied back with some kind of cloth at his forehead. He'd pulled some scraggly cast away fabric to make a cape, and had a stick for a sword.
He'd fed Ike, and shown him kindness. The only one, until mother and Kurthnaga.
The moment Soren saw him, he knew. Viscerally, a certainty that they had met before.
With the window behind him, he was outlined in light. Soren had to squint to make out his rough features. A permanent scowl, continually messy blue hair, and many scars that Soren could make out through his gauntlets and armor.
"Ike...."
"Hmm? Who are you?"
Soren had truly thought that he had reached a point where rejection no longer hurt him. He had known the reproach of entire tribes of laguz, had been left in the gutter, to starve, as if he were nothing but refuse.
His bitterness surrounded him like a carapace, hard and impenetrable.
But once again, he felt the familiar agony. No, it was deeper than he had ever known.
Soren remained silent. Words failed him. He had spent his life hoping to thank the one boy who had shown him kindness, and yet that moment was so inconsequential, Ike had forgotten it entirely.
"...No, I was mistaken," Soren said.
He left without a goodbye, to the temporary solace of books. This time, they offered little distraction.
*
He should've known. He should've left the boy to be nothing but a fond memory, a reminder that not the entire world was bad. Mother, Kurthnaga and the boy who saved him once.
But to think that the boy thought fondly of him, remembered him...no, that was asking too much.
He was glad that Dasha was not too near, as the last thing he needed to hear was the mercies of a Goddess who if she existed, did not listen to the prayers of her children. He had tried as a child, when he had lived among the priests and kept the starving at bay with menial tasks.
He never had a prayer answered, not once.
Soren tried to steady his breath. His thoughts were slow, unfocused, numbed. How many years had fallen into nothing? All his life he had thought he would go and find the boy again, and thank him for saving his life. And now...
He had to think of this logically. Yes, his name was Ike, but many other certainly shared that name. Yes, his hair was the same shade, but then so was the hero king Marth. And it certainly was not the hero king Marth who had saved him.
A thought came to him.
What if...? It's not him. It's not him. Finally he found a moment of calm. What proof did he have, other than a gut feeling? This was not corroborated by sources. The heart was a fickle, lying thing. Just look what it had done to mother.
Mother had said that she knew him the moment she saw him, something deep within her. Perhaps a dragon sense. But, he had shown little signs of his dragon blood. His own father had cast him aside because he wouldn't transform, couldn't fly.
He could put no faith in the possibility that he had inherited any of those abilities. As far as he could tell, all he inherited was the bitterness and hatred of both kinds.
If he had a penchant for magic, that was work, not talent.
There was no proof that he was the one that he had sought. So, he would continue to find that boy, and when he did, he would show his gratitude.
Soren would think of him as 'the beorc commander.' He would disassociate himself, until he found the boy who had saved him.
And that would have to be enough.
*
As they got supplies, and waited for the arrival of Ena and Nasir, Soren spent much of his time studying the beorc commander. From under his dark cloak, he memorized each twich of his eye due to fatigue, each irritated clench of his jaw.
Unlike his books, Soren couldn't study this man enough to figure out the answer.
Another possibility rose. Soren was an insignificant footnote in Ike's life, not even worth remembering.
And that was even more cruel.
*
Two days in. Soren buried himself in books, just as he had. He had looked too much at Ike, like staring at the sun. His eyes hurt with the contradictions and the thoughts.
Was he his Ike, or no? No amount of searching had told. Will he remember, or am I a fool?
"Hey, you."
Soren turned from the dry, but informative history of the Zunama. He hadn't absorbed a single word, and for once, had found no solace within the pages of books.
The commander had left the rest of them behind.
"...Yes?"
"Kurthnaga said you'd be in here."
"...Y-You were looking for me?"
He barely dared to hope. Was he mistaken? Could it be that Ike remembered him after all? He'd been young, perhaps the memory was hazy....Perhaps his gut feeling, his heart had been right.
But there was no recognition in those blue eyes.
"You’re a scholar, so you know books well.. Can you get something for me?"
He'd mistaken him for a librarian?
In Goldoa he was well enough known that none mistook him for a servant even when he wore the garb of a scholar, and not a price. That was his own choice. He preferred unadorned robes which were loose for ease of movement. Due to the efforts of Kurthnaga, they no longer shunned him, and offered him at least cursory courtesy. Besides, even the ones who didn’t know of his oddities could smell the difference.
Of course, they used that knowledge to keep apart of him, as if he had a contagious disease, and would taint them with a mere touch. Kurthnaga had taken a stand, and forced them to accept him, but still they would not touch him.
Soren looked at this moment as if it were happening to someone else. He'd mistaken this mercenary commander for the one boy he had been looking for this long. He was coarse, tall and blunt.
And to think, he’d survived the courts of Begnion. Oh, to be a fly on the wall there and watch him stumble all over every ostentatious rule of those strutting peacocks... It must have been sheer dumb luck that had not gotten him executed for failing to bow on command, or pronouncing the Apostle’s name with the wrong emphasis on syllables.
Soren had read all of Begnion, and heard the tales of the court. He knew just how vapid they could be, and in this point, he was fine with not corroborating their frivolousness with a personal view. He'd seen enough of the frivolousness of the court within the dragon kingdom.
He had to admire this commander's temerity at the very least.
"A book?"
"You seem bookish. Every time I see you, you're reading or have a tome in hand. Uh, it’s not for me, Mist wanted something. She said she wanted something ‘sweet, romantic and with a happy ending’. It's going to be her birthday soon. I wanted to get her something."
And of all the things to ask, he wanted a romance novel, and as a present for his sister, no less.
Still...strange he had sought Soren out. Or was he simply that forthright and blunt?
"I wouldn't know. Besides, this is a library. You would need to go to the shops within the market to find one you could actually give to her."
"Then, you've no recommendation?"
Soren made a disgusted voice in the back of his throat. "Something with a happy ending...I could scarcely suspend my disbelief long enough to get two pages within it. Such a thing does not sound realistic in the slightest."
Soren could hardly make it through the books of history that sang the praises of the Goddess that Dasha was always reading. It seemed little more than a children's story.
Of course, Dasha would not like to hear such thoughts. He would call it blasphemy. And to what hell could Soren be thrown to? He'd already starved, been rejected by the tyrant that was his father, and rejected by the laguz. The Goddess would be hard-pressed to find a worse punishment than what he had already been through.
"I thought perhaps the books here could get me an idea. I've no talent for gifts," he said.
"...then you wish me to lead you to them?"
“If you could, it'd be helpful," he said.
Soren placed a bookmark in the open pages and rose. He motioned for Ike to follow him. The bookshop was small, yet he had seen few of these books. No wonder, considering how little came through Goldoa's walls.
He finally settled on hard back books, with titles like Love's Undying Legacy.
"Don’t expect recommendations; I’ve never read any of these," Soren said.
"Well, neither have I," Ike said.
Soren did not reply.
Ike lifted the books up, and glanced at the covers.
“Is that all?” Soren said.
"Yeah, I think so. Thanks for the help."
"It was nothing," Soren said.
Though it wasn’t for either of them, for Ike was treating a prince like a servant and because it was the most interesting thing that had happened to him outside of books for years.
*
Soon, this would be all over. They would reunite with Ena and Nasir, the commander would leave, and they would go back to Goldoa.
It would be the same walls, the same day in and out.
Perhaps it was folly to find the boy who had saved his life. To impart any importance to it. Perhaps he should keep to his books and never try such things as friendship again.
Cowardly? Maybe. But his tomes never gave him the dagger in the heart feeling that reaching out to Ike had.
Kurthnaga waited for him at the inn they had procured for several days. It was very small, wooden and slightly run-down, but at least it offered rooms they didn't have to share. Multiple beds to a room, in a packed space of rarely cleaned places. The dust was so thick, Soren could run his fingers through it.
Gareth slept, Dasha prayed in the corner. His head bowed as he touched to rosary beads.
"Where is mother?"
"Getting a drink downstairs," Kurthnaga said.
They kept their voices low, as not to wake Gareth.
"Nasir arrives tomorrow."
"So be it," Soren said.
"Well, there's a slight change in plans," Kurthnaga said, and smiled.
Soren's eyes narrowed at this. Kurthnaga was no good at keeping a secret.
"I've hired the mercenaries to take us back. It's not that long, but still. It's dangerous times."
"Why? It seems excessive; a waste of funds. Dasha and Gareth alone could fell an entire battalion, let alone if Nasir, and you joined in," Soren said.
"And you, your control of magic is quite exemplary."
"Humph; I have much to learn."
"You're so humble. I've seen you training. You have great control over your wind," Kurthnaga said.
Soren nodded. "Wind is weaker, yet more tactically sound. Not only does it destroy pegasus riders, it also works well against wyverns. Besides, tomes are limited. It's only my mother demanding they get shipping in that I have them."
"Of course, there is little need for them for the dragonkind," Kurthnaga said softly.
And if he could've transformed, the king of Daein wouldn't have tossed him aside like refuse, and what a different life he would've lived. The prince of Daein, raised up to probably get thrown in to the arena when he grew old enough.
He had been counting on never seeing the commander again. Then he wouldn't have to be forced with the sense of familiarity that did not exist.
Two things could be true:
this was the boy he had been searching for, and his entire life had been for naught. The moment was so meaningless that he had been forgotten completely.
Or, he was mistaken. He'd let the sentimental feeling of hearing the name Ike and some superficial resemblance trick him into believing this was his Ike.
Even as the first rung true for how Soren knew life to be, for once, he couldn't withstand such a cruelty.
Besides, logically, such a thing would require more vetting to be accepted as actual fact.
"It matters not. Have you asked mother what she thinks?"
She was pleased to think of more guards for you," she said. "She's been quite worried about this trip."
"I suppose if you have funds to waste, then so be it," Soren said.
"I'm surprised you are so very hostile to the idea. I thought of you as I made the deal."
"I fail to see how you came to that conclusion," Soren said.
"You reacted so to the commander. Usually you are so aloof, but--You keep watching him."
Soren cut him off before he could say any more. "I was mistaken. I thought him someone I had met before I had come to Goldoa, but, I now believe he cannot be that person."
"Oh, that was it?"
Kurthnaga sounded almost disappointed.
Soren narrowed his eyes. "What did you think?"
Kurthnaga's cheeks colored. "Oh, um, I thought..." he cleared his throat. "....you seemed interested in him."
"Interested?" Soren inclined his head. "I suppose the beorc do hold some interest. Still, I wouldn't keep their company for long. I must say, the way your mind works is a mystery at times," Soren said.
He rose, and pulled his cloak tighter. "But, with war on the horizon, I suppose a beorc mercenary group, however coarse they are, is a decent investment. Transforming within these times could draw unwanted attention, or trouble."
"That's the closest I've heard to you approving of something other than your books and your magic," Kurthnaga said.
"Don't get used to it, for it certainly will not happen again," Soren said.
Fandom: FE10, but very AU
Character/Pairing: Ike/Soren, ensemble
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4,080
Summary: AU. Years ago, Soren was able to meet his mother again, but he never forgot the one boy who showed him kindness. Now, Prince Soren of Goldoa meets Commander Ike on the cusp of war. His attempts to woo Ike in the way of the dragon laguz are not entirely understood.
A/N:
This was going to come out earlier, (like for HT's birthday, then Christmas) but there were plumbing disasters, among other things. I'm still running late.
Also there was a fight scene I just...pushed to a later chapter. Kicking that can down the road.
Still for HT. Sorry it's late!
Two minor canon notes: This takes place mid RD, prior to Elincia's Gambit, and because Almedha went home, there's a role swap where Kurthnaga seeks Ena, not Almedha around this time.
Ena was grieving and didn't return to Goldoa. Nasir has been around trading.
Also @ all readers who have even a passing interest in Fire Emblem Heroes: Please vote Soren in CYL if you can. Soren has never gotten this close to placing before.
Dragons are given to much loyalty, and have a wondrous culture hidden away behind the walls of Goldoa. Many are given to scholarly pursuits in their long lives, and many wonders of art and beauty are hidden behind the walls. However they are stubborn and even in their politeness given to an almost extreme form of passive-aggression. The rules of Goldoa are an intricate sort that is often not vocalized. In the past, those who disagreed with the tacit moral code have chosen to walk among men rather than face the stony silence of shunning from their kind.
-from The Dragonkind of Goldoa by Lehryna the Wanderer as told to Sephiran Duke of Persis,
chancellor of Begnion and adviser to the Apostles.
II. Meeting
3 years later.
War was inevitable. Goldoa stood apart, as always. Something which Almedha warred with the king about. However, the second war was far away. Like something set in stories, a passing note.
Until the day that Kurthnaga came into the library.
Soren looked up from his book. Sunlight and dust drifted across the room lazily.
"You're leaving?"
"There is going to be a few dragons sent out to meet Ena and Nasir again. We will go within the beorc lands to bring them home. Nasir has made contact, and Ena finally will return to us again. I feel it could be good to learn. And I do miss Ena and Nasir dearly. You would not remember them; they last left long before you arrived."
Kurthnaga was too kind to say the rest. That Soren had been the price, and reason why Ena was there. Why Rajaion was there.
He didn't hold this sacrifice against Soren, but others did. Soren knew at some intrinsic level. Even if the dragons did not speak harsh words, he could sense it.
To Kurthnaga, Soren's entire lifespan might as well be a fortnight. Kurthnaga himself was over five hundred years old, and young for his kind. Some had barely neared adulthood at a thousand.
"Do you wish to come with me?'
"I hardly consider myself a practical ambassador," Soren said.
"But practical is what you do best. Besides, I'm sure Nasir and Ena would be gladdened to meet their family again after such a long time."
He could keep searching. He could make use of this short time to span at least part of the continent. Somewhere, he would be. And Soren would find him again.
And then what? Say a simple thank you? Swear an oath of loyalty? Repay a life debt?
For once, Soren didn't have everything planned out. Only that he had to find this boy again. Even if just once.
"I have a satchel packed. I will be ready shortly," Soren said.
"You were...already prepared to go?" Kurthnaga said uncertainly.
Kurthnaga's lower lip quivered.s He always wore his emotions so openly. Something Soren couldn't quite understand. Whatever differences between them, starving and being rejected by the laguz had worn away something in Soren until he was hollowed out and bitter.
Even at a young age, that bitterness had remained. Finding his mother and living at a castle had not softened his edges entirely.
"I dislike being unprepared. Besides, I prefer to travel light," Soren said.
"I see," Kurthnaga said softly.
Even that did not comfort him. But, Soren had no particularly kind words to reassure Kurthnaga. Not when he'd always planned to one day go past the massive walls of Goldoa.
Dasha rose from his seat. "Is there anything you need carried, Lord Soren?"
"No, Dasha. The satchel is not heavy in the least. If I need assistance, I will ask you," he said.
Dasha nodded. "I will gather my things. I have naught but my book of prayers, and an extra set of clothes. I will be ready as soon as possible to travel."
Soren nodded. There was nothing else to be said.
*
Almedha, however, did not take the news quite so calmly. Her voice echoed in the stone halls, like a roar. Behind her, glassware shivered and threatened to break.
"Leaving? How could you say such a thing? This is your home. I searched to the ends of the earth and brave the winter of that foul place to find you. The last thing I wish is to lose you once again to those winters."
"Almedha, there is no reason for alarm. I asked Soren if he would come to help find Ena and Nasir. That is all," Kurthnaga said soothingly. "Once we meet them, we will return back home."
"I must ask, why are we forming this group to meet her?" Soren said. "You never explained thoroughly."
"She was within Daein for some time, trying to find Rajaion. He was unable to be saved... She has been...grieving, and wished to be alone. Nasir stayed near the humans, near her, and kept to his selling. And she's finally coming home. And a good time, too, with the war going on."
Yes, there'd been words of an insurrection on the rise. Even the prince of Daein seemed on shaky ground at the moment. No wonder, he was said to be kind and well-meaning, yet unsure in his job. All which could have been good qualities in a person, but not in a prince.
"Grief, that is something I know intimately," Almedha said. "That poor girl. Of course, she would probably never wish to see me, even if I am her family."
"Sister... Do not say such things," Kurthnaga said sadly.
"She was Rajaion's mate. This will be on my shoulders for as long as I live. But, I cannot fully regret anything which gave me my son," she said.
"She would never blame you," Kurthnaga said.
"Kurthnaga...not everyone is quite so kind as you," Almedha said.
"What I wonder is why now? Ena has lived among the humans for years. She can pretend for a little longer."
"It is time for her to return," Kurthnaga said softly.
Almedha sighed, and turned her steely gaze to her son.
"So, you are completely set on this? Going with Kurthnaga and leaving the safety of Goldoa's walls.
"Yes," Soren said.
"Then I will go as well. I lost you once; I refuse to lose you again. Any who tries to take you from me will be torn apart. I may not be able to transform any longer, but I'll still rip the throat out of any which try."
Soren was used to his mother's threats to any who would harm him. He nodded. His things were already packed.
*
Soren brushed aside the dust. Certainly the elderly shopkeeper was lax in his duties. No wonder, he looked ancient--for a beorc, at least.
An amusing thought, considering that the youngest among the dragons were hundreds of years old.
The fact that they chose a bookshop to meet in must have been Kurthnaga's doing. He would have known that this was where Soren was most comfortable. He hated wasting time. And as the travelers arrived, Soren perused the shelves.
The entire shop was so packed with books that it was difficult to walk. He could've ordered it better himself, Soren thought.
Kurthnaga spoke in low tones to the shopkeeper. Mother was nearby, her hands folded.
Here was a book of spells, here of history....it would be interesting to see how the beorc recalled things, with their limited senses and short lifespans.
He had beorc blood too. There was no telling how it would affect him. Soren theoretically could not transform, though he had never tried. Mother said that the king of Daein had tried to make him transform as a child, but he was not monstrous for his tastes, and thus he had cast Soren aside.
Soren had no memories of him, and it was something he did not mourn the loss of. He had read of Ashnard the Mad King. A tyrant who had laid sack to Crimea, though he was hailed in his own kingdom for lifting up the common classes due to increased military building.
He caught sight of a red braid on the other side of the shelf. Dasha was silent, and reflective as always. He remained close, yet gave Soren a modicum of space.
"There's a book of prayers two shelves down," Soren said.
"Thank you, my lord," Dasha said.
He kept an eye upon Soren, but his long fingers traced the books titles.
Soren selected a book of history and pieced through the pages as they awaited the visitors. There was, after all, no reason to waste time in worrying. They would either reject him as most all had in his life, or they would be full of kindness, like Kurthnaga.
If Soren were a betting man--which he wasn't--he would bet on the former, not the latter.
"Ike, isn't it? I didn't expect to see you as well. You've grown."
"I remember you--Kurthnaga, wasn't it? I could say the same of you."
"Prince Kurthnaga," came Gareth's low voice, full of reproach.
"Don't mind Ike. Even after meeting princesses and empresses, he has no manners to be found," said a female voice.
"They're coming soon. Nasir was delayed by an issue with his boat."
"He hired?"
"The whole lot of us. He paid well, too."
Ike?
Soren peered beyond the bookshelf. Of course, there were many Ikes in this land. Many of them were not his Ike.
The boy named Ike he had known was barely larger than himself. He'd had messy blue hair, tied back with some kind of cloth at his forehead. He'd pulled some scraggly cast away fabric to make a cape, and had a stick for a sword.
He'd fed Ike, and shown him kindness. The only one, until mother and Kurthnaga.
The moment Soren saw him, he knew. Viscerally, a certainty that they had met before.
With the window behind him, he was outlined in light. Soren had to squint to make out his rough features. A permanent scowl, continually messy blue hair, and many scars that Soren could make out through his gauntlets and armor.
"Ike...."
"Hmm? Who are you?"
Soren had truly thought that he had reached a point where rejection no longer hurt him. He had known the reproach of entire tribes of laguz, had been left in the gutter, to starve, as if he were nothing but refuse.
His bitterness surrounded him like a carapace, hard and impenetrable.
But once again, he felt the familiar agony. No, it was deeper than he had ever known.
Soren remained silent. Words failed him. He had spent his life hoping to thank the one boy who had shown him kindness, and yet that moment was so inconsequential, Ike had forgotten it entirely.
"...No, I was mistaken," Soren said.
He left without a goodbye, to the temporary solace of books. This time, they offered little distraction.
*
He should've known. He should've left the boy to be nothing but a fond memory, a reminder that not the entire world was bad. Mother, Kurthnaga and the boy who saved him once.
But to think that the boy thought fondly of him, remembered him...no, that was asking too much.
He was glad that Dasha was not too near, as the last thing he needed to hear was the mercies of a Goddess who if she existed, did not listen to the prayers of her children. He had tried as a child, when he had lived among the priests and kept the starving at bay with menial tasks.
He never had a prayer answered, not once.
Soren tried to steady his breath. His thoughts were slow, unfocused, numbed. How many years had fallen into nothing? All his life he had thought he would go and find the boy again, and thank him for saving his life. And now...
He had to think of this logically. Yes, his name was Ike, but many other certainly shared that name. Yes, his hair was the same shade, but then so was the hero king Marth. And it certainly was not the hero king Marth who had saved him.
A thought came to him.
What if...? It's not him. It's not him. Finally he found a moment of calm. What proof did he have, other than a gut feeling? This was not corroborated by sources. The heart was a fickle, lying thing. Just look what it had done to mother.
Mother had said that she knew him the moment she saw him, something deep within her. Perhaps a dragon sense. But, he had shown little signs of his dragon blood. His own father had cast him aside because he wouldn't transform, couldn't fly.
He could put no faith in the possibility that he had inherited any of those abilities. As far as he could tell, all he inherited was the bitterness and hatred of both kinds.
If he had a penchant for magic, that was work, not talent.
There was no proof that he was the one that he had sought. So, he would continue to find that boy, and when he did, he would show his gratitude.
Soren would think of him as 'the beorc commander.' He would disassociate himself, until he found the boy who had saved him.
And that would have to be enough.
*
As they got supplies, and waited for the arrival of Ena and Nasir, Soren spent much of his time studying the beorc commander. From under his dark cloak, he memorized each twich of his eye due to fatigue, each irritated clench of his jaw.
Unlike his books, Soren couldn't study this man enough to figure out the answer.
Another possibility rose. Soren was an insignificant footnote in Ike's life, not even worth remembering.
And that was even more cruel.
*
Two days in. Soren buried himself in books, just as he had. He had looked too much at Ike, like staring at the sun. His eyes hurt with the contradictions and the thoughts.
Was he his Ike, or no? No amount of searching had told. Will he remember, or am I a fool?
"Hey, you."
Soren turned from the dry, but informative history of the Zunama. He hadn't absorbed a single word, and for once, had found no solace within the pages of books.
The commander had left the rest of them behind.
"...Yes?"
"Kurthnaga said you'd be in here."
"...Y-You were looking for me?"
He barely dared to hope. Was he mistaken? Could it be that Ike remembered him after all? He'd been young, perhaps the memory was hazy....Perhaps his gut feeling, his heart had been right.
But there was no recognition in those blue eyes.
"You’re a scholar, so you know books well.. Can you get something for me?"
He'd mistaken him for a librarian?
In Goldoa he was well enough known that none mistook him for a servant even when he wore the garb of a scholar, and not a price. That was his own choice. He preferred unadorned robes which were loose for ease of movement. Due to the efforts of Kurthnaga, they no longer shunned him, and offered him at least cursory courtesy. Besides, even the ones who didn’t know of his oddities could smell the difference.
Of course, they used that knowledge to keep apart of him, as if he had a contagious disease, and would taint them with a mere touch. Kurthnaga had taken a stand, and forced them to accept him, but still they would not touch him.
Soren looked at this moment as if it were happening to someone else. He'd mistaken this mercenary commander for the one boy he had been looking for this long. He was coarse, tall and blunt.
And to think, he’d survived the courts of Begnion. Oh, to be a fly on the wall there and watch him stumble all over every ostentatious rule of those strutting peacocks... It must have been sheer dumb luck that had not gotten him executed for failing to bow on command, or pronouncing the Apostle’s name with the wrong emphasis on syllables.
Soren had read all of Begnion, and heard the tales of the court. He knew just how vapid they could be, and in this point, he was fine with not corroborating their frivolousness with a personal view. He'd seen enough of the frivolousness of the court within the dragon kingdom.
He had to admire this commander's temerity at the very least.
"A book?"
"You seem bookish. Every time I see you, you're reading or have a tome in hand. Uh, it’s not for me, Mist wanted something. She said she wanted something ‘sweet, romantic and with a happy ending’. It's going to be her birthday soon. I wanted to get her something."
And of all the things to ask, he wanted a romance novel, and as a present for his sister, no less.
Still...strange he had sought Soren out. Or was he simply that forthright and blunt?
"I wouldn't know. Besides, this is a library. You would need to go to the shops within the market to find one you could actually give to her."
"Then, you've no recommendation?"
Soren made a disgusted voice in the back of his throat. "Something with a happy ending...I could scarcely suspend my disbelief long enough to get two pages within it. Such a thing does not sound realistic in the slightest."
Soren could hardly make it through the books of history that sang the praises of the Goddess that Dasha was always reading. It seemed little more than a children's story.
Of course, Dasha would not like to hear such thoughts. He would call it blasphemy. And to what hell could Soren be thrown to? He'd already starved, been rejected by the tyrant that was his father, and rejected by the laguz. The Goddess would be hard-pressed to find a worse punishment than what he had already been through.
"I thought perhaps the books here could get me an idea. I've no talent for gifts," he said.
"...then you wish me to lead you to them?"
“If you could, it'd be helpful," he said.
Soren placed a bookmark in the open pages and rose. He motioned for Ike to follow him. The bookshop was small, yet he had seen few of these books. No wonder, considering how little came through Goldoa's walls.
He finally settled on hard back books, with titles like Love's Undying Legacy.
"Don’t expect recommendations; I’ve never read any of these," Soren said.
"Well, neither have I," Ike said.
Soren did not reply.
Ike lifted the books up, and glanced at the covers.
“Is that all?” Soren said.
"Yeah, I think so. Thanks for the help."
"It was nothing," Soren said.
Though it wasn’t for either of them, for Ike was treating a prince like a servant and because it was the most interesting thing that had happened to him outside of books for years.
*
Soon, this would be all over. They would reunite with Ena and Nasir, the commander would leave, and they would go back to Goldoa.
It would be the same walls, the same day in and out.
Perhaps it was folly to find the boy who had saved his life. To impart any importance to it. Perhaps he should keep to his books and never try such things as friendship again.
Cowardly? Maybe. But his tomes never gave him the dagger in the heart feeling that reaching out to Ike had.
Kurthnaga waited for him at the inn they had procured for several days. It was very small, wooden and slightly run-down, but at least it offered rooms they didn't have to share. Multiple beds to a room, in a packed space of rarely cleaned places. The dust was so thick, Soren could run his fingers through it.
Gareth slept, Dasha prayed in the corner. His head bowed as he touched to rosary beads.
"Where is mother?"
"Getting a drink downstairs," Kurthnaga said.
They kept their voices low, as not to wake Gareth.
"Nasir arrives tomorrow."
"So be it," Soren said.
"Well, there's a slight change in plans," Kurthnaga said, and smiled.
Soren's eyes narrowed at this. Kurthnaga was no good at keeping a secret.
"I've hired the mercenaries to take us back. It's not that long, but still. It's dangerous times."
"Why? It seems excessive; a waste of funds. Dasha and Gareth alone could fell an entire battalion, let alone if Nasir, and you joined in," Soren said.
"And you, your control of magic is quite exemplary."
"Humph; I have much to learn."
"You're so humble. I've seen you training. You have great control over your wind," Kurthnaga said.
Soren nodded. "Wind is weaker, yet more tactically sound. Not only does it destroy pegasus riders, it also works well against wyverns. Besides, tomes are limited. It's only my mother demanding they get shipping in that I have them."
"Of course, there is little need for them for the dragonkind," Kurthnaga said softly.
And if he could've transformed, the king of Daein wouldn't have tossed him aside like refuse, and what a different life he would've lived. The prince of Daein, raised up to probably get thrown in to the arena when he grew old enough.
He had been counting on never seeing the commander again. Then he wouldn't have to be forced with the sense of familiarity that did not exist.
Two things could be true:
this was the boy he had been searching for, and his entire life had been for naught. The moment was so meaningless that he had been forgotten completely.
Or, he was mistaken. He'd let the sentimental feeling of hearing the name Ike and some superficial resemblance trick him into believing this was his Ike.
Even as the first rung true for how Soren knew life to be, for once, he couldn't withstand such a cruelty.
Besides, logically, such a thing would require more vetting to be accepted as actual fact.
"It matters not. Have you asked mother what she thinks?"
She was pleased to think of more guards for you," she said. "She's been quite worried about this trip."
"I suppose if you have funds to waste, then so be it," Soren said.
"I'm surprised you are so very hostile to the idea. I thought of you as I made the deal."
"I fail to see how you came to that conclusion," Soren said.
"You reacted so to the commander. Usually you are so aloof, but--You keep watching him."
Soren cut him off before he could say any more. "I was mistaken. I thought him someone I had met before I had come to Goldoa, but, I now believe he cannot be that person."
"Oh, that was it?"
Kurthnaga sounded almost disappointed.
Soren narrowed his eyes. "What did you think?"
Kurthnaga's cheeks colored. "Oh, um, I thought..." he cleared his throat. "....you seemed interested in him."
"Interested?" Soren inclined his head. "I suppose the beorc do hold some interest. Still, I wouldn't keep their company for long. I must say, the way your mind works is a mystery at times," Soren said.
He rose, and pulled his cloak tighter. "But, with war on the horizon, I suppose a beorc mercenary group, however coarse they are, is a decent investment. Transforming within these times could draw unwanted attention, or trouble."
"That's the closest I've heard to you approving of something other than your books and your magic," Kurthnaga said.
"Don't get used to it, for it certainly will not happen again," Soren said.
