fic: Breathing lessons
Nov. 23rd, 2022 08:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Breathing Lessons
Series: precanon FE9
Character/pairing: preslash precanon Ike/Soren
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,471
Summary: Soren can't swim. Ike begins to teach him.
Author's note:![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fe_fest: Fire Emblem 9/10, Ike/Soren - breathing lessons
Happy Holidays, Cyrocannon.
The stream was deep enough that they could dip in on hot days. Soren sat on the edge. His sandals were off, and this was his one concession to Ike. Mist wore a little yellow shift that clung to her small body, now turned a murky color from mud and dirt. Her short hair stuck out in two frizzy ponytails.
Books were too heavy to carry this far out, so Soren simply watched everyone else. Ike splashed Mist, and she giggled.
"Come on in, Soren."
Soren shook his head. "I can't."
"He can't bring his book in, silly," Mist said.
"Soren left his books behind, remember?" Ike said.
"I can't swim," Soren said softly.
"You can't swim?"
"I don't think I've ever heard anything Soren couldn't do," Mist said.
Here, I'll teach you," Ike said.
Soren considered him. Ike had grown taller than him now. He was swimming out further and further in lakes and streams these days. Soon, Ike would leave him behind if Soren didn't so something.
The thought of sitting on the shore as Ike had swam on to where he couldn't reach, and one day out of Soren's life scared him more than the memories of sinking into dark water and almost not coming up.
(The water had been so cold. He couldn''t get warm. He was well aware that he wouldn't rise at this rate. He looked up and saw the last hint of light.)
Soren stripped down to his shortclothes and slowly walked into the cold water. The water was breathtaking, enough to make his eyes widen as he stepped in.
Too early in Spring to swim, with water far too cold, but Ike didn't want to wait. So Soren came into the cold with Ike.
"You have to kick more, Soren. You're sinking."
He tried, truly. But the cold seemed an undertow. His dark hair was like seaweed, as he sunk deeper. Ike pulled him up. Ike always pulled him up.
"Are you trying to dive for stones? First, you take a breath."
Soren took a deep breath. His cheeks puffed out, like squirrels in fall gathering nuts for the winter.
"Maybe not that deep a breath," Ike said.
Ike taught him how to breathe. How to live. He gasped for air. Like the first time a hand was outstretched in kindness.
Soren slipped under. Everything was murky and dark. He remembered what it was to almost drown. The way his lungs burned for air. It felt so much like starving.
But, this time, he didn't sink far. A hand reached down and pulled him up. He gasped for breath at the surface.
"Don't go so deep next time, Soren. Kick your legs more to keep afloat."
Ike's hand in his. Just as when Ike had held out that morsel of food which had saved his life. The water was cold.
"Sorry," his voice came out like a croak between coughing. He remembered what it was to be cold. He'd been colder than this.
In the Daein winters. In the water which had almost taken him. He'd taken to the river to avoid the villagers, who had driven him away. The beasts had given him no mercy or help. They had turned their backs upon him, ignored him like a ghost.
Soren kicked his legs to stay afloat. The cold water was between his fingers.
Ike's fingers between his. Ike barely seemed to notice the cold. He hadn't starved, or shivered away the night wondering if he would survive. He didn't know the kind of cold that came with almost dying.
Ike could go so much father than him. It could take Soren weeks, maybe even months to learn. By then, Ike would be diving into the deepest parts of the lakes and streams and bringing up shiny stones.
"...Maybe that's enough for today. I don't want Soren to catch a cold," Ike said.
"Aww, okay. I was getting a leg cramp anyways," Mist said.
"We should've thought to bring blankets. And lunch," Ike said.
"We gotta go sit by the fiiire," Mist said.
Soren pulled himself out of the water. Wet hair down his back. Cold. Ike's hand in his.
Ike hadn't left him behind.
"Soren, you're shivering."
"Here."
Ike reached out to the shoreline, where his clothes had been left.
Ike wrapped Soren up in his cloak. It was too big; Ike was growing into it. He kept holding Soren's hand to keep him warm.
"Let's go back to the fort. Maybe Oscar has finished lunch by now," Ike said.
Always thinking with his stomach.
Cold water dripped down his back. The sun made them a bit warmer. It was cold for spring.
*
Titania scolded them, and sent them inside to get warm. They curled up in blankets by the fire, bellies full of soup as Oscar fussed over them. Soren leaned into Ike. The fire cracked and flicked.
"Don't get too close to the hearth, now," Oscar warned. His voice was soft, always. Even when he was worried.
Mist had curled up on her side. Ike wore the blanket like a cape. Soren's was like a cloak wrapped all about him. He'd had to begrudgingly let go of Ike's cloak to let it dry, with the rest of their clothes.
"Next time we go swimming, we'll work hard. Maybe we can catch some fish for dinner. Then father will be happy."
"We could make spears from sticks," Soren said softly. "It might be easier."
He'd had to rely on berries before. He'd learned how to glean from forests when no one would feed him. When they'd rather leave him to die.
He didn't say that. He never did. Ike never remembered that moment anyways.
"You're so smart, Soren. You always know the best ways to do things," Ike said.
If he was smarter, he probably wouldn't have stepped in the river at all. But the thought of Ike swimming ahead of him, to somewhere he couldn't be was a more terrifying thought than the memories of the cold, and the forms it took.
Almost starving, almost drowning, almost, almost dying.
"We could build a boat, made of sticks," Ike went on.
"A raft?" Soren said.
"And sail down the river to where the berrry bushes are."
"Would we be pirates?" Mist said sleepily.
"Pirates are mean and bad. I'm going to be a strong fighter like dad. We'll go sailing and sailing," Ike said.
"Across the ocean? I've heard of the ocean. It's big," Mist said. "And full of mermaids, too."
Soren had seen it. Big didn't do the crashing waves justice. They'd need far more than a little raft to cross that.
But, it was just dreams and child's dreams anyways. Everyone said Soren was such a serious child. It was because he never had a childhood, not even for a day. By the time Ike had found Soren, Soren was a little scholar and soldier. Serious, sharp and quiet. Already able to do the duties at any monastery or mercenary house to ensure he could eat for the night.
But, around Ike, he began to see what might have been. Playing, hide and seek and the way Ike's hand felt in his. Like he never wanted to let go.
He listened to stories of pirates, and thought of what could've, what might've. A soft, innocent version of himself. One who got to be a child, as opposed to the strange, half adult as many put it. Too serious, too cold, too stoic, almost creepy in his red-eyed gaze.
Ike never thought him creepy. Ike didn't try and scare him away, like the villagers did. And he never would, no matter what. Soren had to believe that when the nightmares came. Worse than death was the thought of Ike turning his face away as the beasts and villagers had. Of a world alone and with nothing left for him but death.
"If not pirates, then what?"
"Heroes," Ike said. "We'll be heroes."
"You will. You already are," Soren said softly. Too softly for Ike to hear. It didn't matter. Ike didn't remember anyways.
"I wanna be a princess next time we play make believe."
"Okay. And I'll be a soldier, like dad," Ike said.
And he'd be by Ike. Even if he didn't involve himself in childish games. Even if the part of him which could play pretend and make believe had withered away with the starvation, and hatred he had endured in his life.
He'd still be there by Ike's side, for as long as he drew breath.
Series: precanon FE9
Character/pairing: preslash precanon Ike/Soren
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,471
Summary: Soren can't swim. Ike begins to teach him.
Author's note:
fe_fest: Fire Emblem 9/10, Ike/Soren - breathing lessonsHappy Holidays, Cyrocannon.
The stream was deep enough that they could dip in on hot days. Soren sat on the edge. His sandals were off, and this was his one concession to Ike. Mist wore a little yellow shift that clung to her small body, now turned a murky color from mud and dirt. Her short hair stuck out in two frizzy ponytails.
Books were too heavy to carry this far out, so Soren simply watched everyone else. Ike splashed Mist, and she giggled.
"Come on in, Soren."
Soren shook his head. "I can't."
"He can't bring his book in, silly," Mist said.
"Soren left his books behind, remember?" Ike said.
"I can't swim," Soren said softly.
"You can't swim?"
"I don't think I've ever heard anything Soren couldn't do," Mist said.
Here, I'll teach you," Ike said.
Soren considered him. Ike had grown taller than him now. He was swimming out further and further in lakes and streams these days. Soon, Ike would leave him behind if Soren didn't so something.
The thought of sitting on the shore as Ike had swam on to where he couldn't reach, and one day out of Soren's life scared him more than the memories of sinking into dark water and almost not coming up.
(The water had been so cold. He couldn''t get warm. He was well aware that he wouldn't rise at this rate. He looked up and saw the last hint of light.)
Soren stripped down to his shortclothes and slowly walked into the cold water. The water was breathtaking, enough to make his eyes widen as he stepped in.
Too early in Spring to swim, with water far too cold, but Ike didn't want to wait. So Soren came into the cold with Ike.
"You have to kick more, Soren. You're sinking."
He tried, truly. But the cold seemed an undertow. His dark hair was like seaweed, as he sunk deeper. Ike pulled him up. Ike always pulled him up.
"Are you trying to dive for stones? First, you take a breath."
Soren took a deep breath. His cheeks puffed out, like squirrels in fall gathering nuts for the winter.
"Maybe not that deep a breath," Ike said.
Ike taught him how to breathe. How to live. He gasped for air. Like the first time a hand was outstretched in kindness.
Soren slipped under. Everything was murky and dark. He remembered what it was to almost drown. The way his lungs burned for air. It felt so much like starving.
But, this time, he didn't sink far. A hand reached down and pulled him up. He gasped for breath at the surface.
"Don't go so deep next time, Soren. Kick your legs more to keep afloat."
Ike's hand in his. Just as when Ike had held out that morsel of food which had saved his life. The water was cold.
"Sorry," his voice came out like a croak between coughing. He remembered what it was to be cold. He'd been colder than this.
In the Daein winters. In the water which had almost taken him. He'd taken to the river to avoid the villagers, who had driven him away. The beasts had given him no mercy or help. They had turned their backs upon him, ignored him like a ghost.
Soren kicked his legs to stay afloat. The cold water was between his fingers.
Ike's fingers between his. Ike barely seemed to notice the cold. He hadn't starved, or shivered away the night wondering if he would survive. He didn't know the kind of cold that came with almost dying.
Ike could go so much father than him. It could take Soren weeks, maybe even months to learn. By then, Ike would be diving into the deepest parts of the lakes and streams and bringing up shiny stones.
"...Maybe that's enough for today. I don't want Soren to catch a cold," Ike said.
"Aww, okay. I was getting a leg cramp anyways," Mist said.
"We should've thought to bring blankets. And lunch," Ike said.
"We gotta go sit by the fiiire," Mist said.
Soren pulled himself out of the water. Wet hair down his back. Cold. Ike's hand in his.
Ike hadn't left him behind.
"Soren, you're shivering."
"Here."
Ike reached out to the shoreline, where his clothes had been left.
Ike wrapped Soren up in his cloak. It was too big; Ike was growing into it. He kept holding Soren's hand to keep him warm.
"Let's go back to the fort. Maybe Oscar has finished lunch by now," Ike said.
Always thinking with his stomach.
Cold water dripped down his back. The sun made them a bit warmer. It was cold for spring.
*
Titania scolded them, and sent them inside to get warm. They curled up in blankets by the fire, bellies full of soup as Oscar fussed over them. Soren leaned into Ike. The fire cracked and flicked.
"Don't get too close to the hearth, now," Oscar warned. His voice was soft, always. Even when he was worried.
Mist had curled up on her side. Ike wore the blanket like a cape. Soren's was like a cloak wrapped all about him. He'd had to begrudgingly let go of Ike's cloak to let it dry, with the rest of their clothes.
"Next time we go swimming, we'll work hard. Maybe we can catch some fish for dinner. Then father will be happy."
"We could make spears from sticks," Soren said softly. "It might be easier."
He'd had to rely on berries before. He'd learned how to glean from forests when no one would feed him. When they'd rather leave him to die.
He didn't say that. He never did. Ike never remembered that moment anyways.
"You're so smart, Soren. You always know the best ways to do things," Ike said.
If he was smarter, he probably wouldn't have stepped in the river at all. But the thought of Ike swimming ahead of him, to somewhere he couldn't be was a more terrifying thought than the memories of the cold, and the forms it took.
Almost starving, almost drowning, almost, almost dying.
"We could build a boat, made of sticks," Ike went on.
"A raft?" Soren said.
"And sail down the river to where the berrry bushes are."
"Would we be pirates?" Mist said sleepily.
"Pirates are mean and bad. I'm going to be a strong fighter like dad. We'll go sailing and sailing," Ike said.
"Across the ocean? I've heard of the ocean. It's big," Mist said. "And full of mermaids, too."
Soren had seen it. Big didn't do the crashing waves justice. They'd need far more than a little raft to cross that.
But, it was just dreams and child's dreams anyways. Everyone said Soren was such a serious child. It was because he never had a childhood, not even for a day. By the time Ike had found Soren, Soren was a little scholar and soldier. Serious, sharp and quiet. Already able to do the duties at any monastery or mercenary house to ensure he could eat for the night.
But, around Ike, he began to see what might have been. Playing, hide and seek and the way Ike's hand felt in his. Like he never wanted to let go.
He listened to stories of pirates, and thought of what could've, what might've. A soft, innocent version of himself. One who got to be a child, as opposed to the strange, half adult as many put it. Too serious, too cold, too stoic, almost creepy in his red-eyed gaze.
Ike never thought him creepy. Ike didn't try and scare him away, like the villagers did. And he never would, no matter what. Soren had to believe that when the nightmares came. Worse than death was the thought of Ike turning his face away as the beasts and villagers had. Of a world alone and with nothing left for him but death.
"If not pirates, then what?"
"Heroes," Ike said. "We'll be heroes."
"You will. You already are," Soren said softly. Too softly for Ike to hear. It didn't matter. Ike didn't remember anyways.
"I wanna be a princess next time we play make believe."
"Okay. And I'll be a soldier, like dad," Ike said.
And he'd be by Ike. Even if he didn't involve himself in childish games. Even if the part of him which could play pretend and make believe had withered away with the starvation, and hatred he had endured in his life.
He'd still be there by Ike's side, for as long as he drew breath.
