fic: Frost Fair 5/5 (part two)
May. 21st, 2011 03:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Frost Fair (5/5 part two)
Day/Theme: 5/31. love can change any pessimist
Series: FE10
Character/Pairing: Ike/Soren eventual, Pelleas/Micaiah, Kyza/Ranulf
Summary: Soren, the head CEO of Nevassa Corp, is entirely tired of his mother's nagging, and so
sets out to hire a date for the holidays and his brother's upcoming wedding. After several disastrous interviews, he comes across Ike who thought it was a bodyguard job and really needs the money.
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 7406
Author's note: And this is truly the last part. Thanks to Joss for betaing. Any remaining errors are mine, as I couldn't leave it alone and had to revise a part of the ending while I was at it.
With luck, I'll be revising earlier parts of the story, along with other works over the summer with my beta.
*
The hospital room was claustrophobic in its smallness, and the whole brightness of the place was giving him a headache. He wasn't cold, though. He squinted up and heard a scuffing of feet, and the light being dimmed.
There was a dry, foul taste in his mouth. He groaned. Pain radiated through his body, seemingly from every pore and muscle.
"Good to see you back," Ike said. He sat down on the chair near the bed.
"How long have I been out?" Soren asked.
"A while?" Ike squinted at his watch, which was turned inwards towards his wrist.
"About ten hours, I think," Ike said. He stretched and yawned. There was a bandage over his left arm, just visible under his green t-shirt with a camouflage pattern. His beat-up army jacket–one of the few things he had been allowed to take with him—lay over Soren's chest.
"Everyone else went back. There was talk of calling hospital security on me, but Micaiah did some of her empathy Voodoo Jedi mind tricks. Also I towered over the guy."
"Heh....." Soren flinched, and touched to his rib cage. Both his wrists were in splints. The IV bag near the bed tottered for a moment, but Ike steadied it.
Ike reached out, but stopped just short of touching Soren. "Careful, now...."
"How hurt am I?" Soren asked.
"Lots of bruises, broken wrists, broken leg, broken arm and three broken ribs. Maybe more, I don't remember the details. It was pretty bad when you came in."
"Ten hours...that'd mean that the wedding is in a few hours," Soren said.
"Don't worry about the wedding," Ike said.
"I've spent the last sixteen years of my life having to deal with demands about grandchildren.. I had to hire a date to be at this wedding. Pelleas is getting married even if I have to put a shotgun to his back," Soren said in irritation.
"At this point...I'm not even sure if there's going to be a wedding," Ike said.
"What?" Soren said incredulously.
"Micaiah and Pelleas apparently got in a fight or something. Something about not being sure she can marry into a family of murderers. I only heard it secondhand, as it apparently happened at The Keep."
Soren blinked, realization finally dawning past the haze of painkillers. "You stayed here all night?"
"I've been here since they moved you here," Ike said. He stated it simply, as if it merited no question that he would keep up the facade and pretend to be his lover.
"I see," Soren said. "Help me up."
"You're still injured–you might hurt yourself worse–"
"I have a job to do with a nervous groom, a meddling mother and a family of the bride who consists of thieves. I need to keep them from stealing the draperies, Pelleas from going into a fetal position and my mother from scaring the bride away. I don't have time to be hurt."
They stared each other down. If Soren's hands hadn't been in a cast, he wouldn've put both of them on his hips.
"You're the boss," Ike said.
Ike carefully picked Soren up and carried him bridal style out, the IV rolling along with them.
*
Actually getting home involved a pay phone and getting ahold of Bryce and convincing him that the Nevassa legacy was in danger, and being the son of Ashnard, he could handle a few broken bones. There was also the matter of stealing a wheelchair, but that was quite a bit easier than the first.
When they arrived, Ike was still carrying Soren. Getting up the stairs had been a chore, but finally they made it to where Micaiah, her brother and his friend were gathered in one of the guest bedrooms.
Tormod knelt before the door, and peered under the crack.
"I could blow up the door," Tormod said hopefully.
"You're not blowing up the door," Micaiah said.
"Pelleas locked himself in a closet and won't come out," Sothe said. He rolled his eyes and looked over at the closet in disdain.
"As you can see, I have to get my brother to come out of the closet now," Soren said.
"Interesting phrasing," Ike said.
"Said by the one who has a boyfriend," Tormod piped in.
"Pelleas, please come out of the closet," Micaiah said.
"I can't."
The redhead was snickering. Micaiah shot him a you're not helping glare. She knelt down on her knees beside the door.
"Pelleas...." Micaiah said.
"I don't blame you for it all, really. Father did some horrible things...."
"I was wrong to have blamed you," Micaiah said. "They were his crimes, not yours."
"It doesn't help that poor sub-hum—laguz any," Pelleas said softly. "She still felt it, no matter which of us was doing it. Besides I...I felt prejudice towards the laguz, and the Branded. I never would've guessed you were one of them."
Micaiah fell silent too.
"I should have told you. I thought I could keep it a secret like I always have and just keep living, but you would've seen to it. I'm sorry for not telling you, Pelleas."
"I'm sorry for ever doubting you–or the laguz, or the Branded. It–it—I suppose it was just how I was raised, though that's no real excuse..." Pelleas said.
"I forgive you," she said. "Now you need to learn forgive yourself. You've begun to change, that's the important part."
Pelleas' voice was low as he spoke again.
"But that's not all...Do you know that there was this pair–this vicious pair who were saying that you were marrying me for my money–How could they say such a thing, Micaiah?"
She kneeled on the floor and touched the door. "Why would you listen to such awful things? They're just gossiping harpies."
"I wanted this wedding to be good for you. And then things kept happening, the fur, the meat, Soren getting kidnapped....I convinced myself that if the wedding was good enough, then maybe I'd be good enough...But, I'm not strong, and I'm not dashing...Soren brings home this handsome boyfriend–the kind of guy father always wanted us to be–and all I can think is that maybe you'd rather have someone like him. Someone who's...well, strong."
"I've dated guys like that before and it's not what I want. It's you I want to be married to, you I chose."
"But you're so beautiful and kind and wonderful and graceful and...wonderful. Sometimes I wonder what you see in me at all."
"You have a good heart," she said. "You're kind and gentle despite all the cruelty you grew up with."
"I...I guess I'm just being a fool."
"Obviously," Soren cut in. "Now if you don't get out of there now, I will have Ike break down the door and physically carry you out. I will find shotguns if necessary because we are not rescheduling this wedding no matter how insecure you're feeling. The catering alone took five months to book."
The door slowly opened. Pelleas stepped out sheepishly. He bit his lip and looked down, abashed. "I'm...I'm sorry. I think I had an attack of nerves."
"Pelleas, if this isn't right for you, I won't force you," Micaiah said.
"I will," Soren said.
"Oh no, it's not cold feet! I always wanted to marry you. I just wasn't sure if I deserved it."
"You both perfectly deserve each other," Soren spat out.
"Yes, we do," Micaiah said, fondness filling her voice.
She reached out and embraced him. He nuzzled close against her, his hands in her pale hair.
"Please don't leave again," Pelleas murmured into her hair.
"...I can't promise I'll never leave. I'm going to live a long time...but I promise that I will be by your side for as long as I live."
"Micaiah, I–"
Their reunion was cut short by a shriek, and Almedha rushing into the room.
"What are you doing out of the hospital?!" Almedha said.
Soren couldn't exactly claim he had been released early, considering that he still wore the hospital gown and had the IV trailing beside him.
"We were saving a wedding," Ike said.
Almedha turned her attention to where Pelleas and Micaiah were. They no longer embraced, but stood close and hand in hand.
"I suppose I owe you thanks for bringing my son home," she said in a clipped tone.
Almedha seemed to bite back whatever cutting remark about protesters she had been thinking of beforehand to give her begrudging gratitude.
"Micaiah is Branded," Pelleas said. "And I...I'm not going to go around hiding it or trying to excuse it."
"I may have quite a few complaints against her, but her bloodline wasn't one of them. Your brother is Branded as well," she said.
"Soren is....What about me?" Pelleas said.
"You're adopted," Almedha said dismissively.
Pelleas paled, and Micaiah rubbed his back in a soothing gesture. He looked as if his knees might buckle at this realization.
Ike and carried Soren out to the hall, unnoticed in the last commotion as the rest of Micaiah's group had come in to greet the group.
"And there you have it," Soren said. "All the deep family secrets."
"Did you know?" Ike asked.
"Yes," Soren said. "I had a suspicion and had a blood test done when I took over the company. Needless to say, I kept it from the public eye. Consorting with laguz is hardly looked well upon in Daein."
"I can guess," Ike said.
"The question is, do you wish to continue your contract in lieu of this?" Soren asked.
"What? You're firing me?" Ike asked incredulously.
"No. I am offering the possibility of an early leave if the thought of being near a Branded is something you find loathsome. As long as you kept to the contact of silence on matters of what you witnessed in the Keep, you will be able to leave and go back to your life. I could fabricate some fight and have Kyza purchase some plane tickets back to Crimea before the weekend is over."
"Soren–I ran around in your father's dungeons. If I can handle that, I think I can handle that your mother is a laguz. I don't care about any of this–your parent's history, whatever."
"All right," Soren said softly.
*
Ike had rescued him from the family dungeons, met his family, found out his bloodline and seen him in a hospital gown. As if that wasn't enough, he also helped Soren dress.
They'd had to cut off large pieces of the tux, much to Soren's annoyance, which meant he'd never get his deposit back on it. Had only his legs been broken, he might've been able to make it on crutches, but as it was, he could only go via a wheelchair.
"You don't have to do this," Soren said. "I paid you to be an ersatz lover and to put up with my family, not a nurse."
"You can't exactly wheel yourself. You can't even make it on crutches like this," Ike said. "Besides, I don't mind."
"This goes beyond the contract," Soren muttered.
"Well, I guess you'll just have to pay me extra then," Ike said with a slight smile. "It's okay to need people sometimes."
Soren didn't reply.
"You don't have to do everything. The wedding is going to go fine. You did a great job setting it all up. So, take your pain killers, Soren," Ike said. "It's the least you can do, considering you aren't even supposed to be out of the hospital yet."
"No," Soren said through gritted teeth. He'd been in pain since he'd woken up, but he found the painkillers had a side effect of making him drowsy.
"That wasn't a suggestion," Ike said.
"Are you ordering me?" Soren asked incredulously.
Ike bent until he was on his level.
"Trust me. I'll take care of everything. You've been through enough pain, and I don't want to see you go through anymore."
Soren looked to where he held the pills in his calloused hands.
"Fine," he said. Ike helped put the pills in his mouth, and gave him a little water from an old half-drunk water bottle he had lying around.
"Let's go," Soren said.
Ike wheeled him out.
It was only fitting that one of Ashnard's children would have armed guards at his wedding. This decision wasn't the bride or the groom's doing, but Almedha's own influence, despite Micaiah's protests in the matter.
However, they were contracted at short notice, which tended to involve bridesmaids and flower girls getting large guns shoved in their faces amidst demands of identification.
"And you are?" Said the guard in question. He was a beefy looking man in dark sunglasses, and wore no nametag.
"I'm with the best man," Ike said
"I don't see you on the list," the guard said.
"No, you don't understand. We're co-best men," Ike said.
The usher looked as if for a moment he might contest that claim, but Soren cut in.
"He's with me. Now, if you want to keep your current contract and ever be hired again, I'd advise you let us in."
"So be it," he said instead with a curt wave.
Ike wheeled them up to the front where it looked like Pelleas might faint. There was murmuring through the crowd, but Soren didn't look back. The bridal march was played by Sothe and some of the bridesmen, who apparently moonlit in a band. Soren kept checking for a watch which he no longer had–it had been ruined in the dungeons. He could already feel the drug setting in. Ike moved his wrist so Soren could check the clock on his plain blue sports watch which was turned inwards.
But finally, after Tormod's guitar solo which made some of the audience flip up lighters in appreciation, the bride came.
Through stained glass windows fell ethereal light down over the bride as she came in. Pelleas looked at her in wonder, in her all-natural organically grown hemp wedding dress and white flowers braided into her pale hair. The veil was the same one his mother had worn, made of Goldoan silken fibers woven together with intricate patterns of roses of damask.
The flowers were a mix of white roses with a splash of baby's breath. The bride and groom looked nervously to each other–or at least Pelleas did. Micaiah radiated a serenity which seemed infectious. She adeptly put the bouquet in one hand, and took his hand in the other.
It was unconventional, but it was better than having the groom faint.
Everything became a blur after that. He knew he was slumping over onto Ike, too tired to keep his eyes open.
The side effects had come in, just as he had expected. His last conscious thought was that it was all up to Ike now, a thought that should've made him far more anxious than it did.
*
He woke up in the reception. He blinked several times. A few people were on the dance floor slow dancing; Pelleas was not one of them. Soren wondered if there had been some event of tripping which cut short the traditional dance by the groom and bride. Sothe and a few of the other bridesmen were playing a slow song, while Tormod crooned a love song into the microphone, occasionally cutting meaningful glance towards Sothe.
"Ike–" Soren said, looking about him. For all purposes, it seemed empty save for an elderly couple he didn't recognize, but was surely some distant family three tables down.
"It's okay, I'm right here," Ike said.
Soren saw him now, moving into view and pulling up a folding chair to sit beside the wheelchair.
"What did I miss?" Soren asked.
"Some vows and stuff. Cake cutting. I got a piece for you," Ike said. He pushed a piece of white cake with gold trim towards Soren.
"And the best man's speech?" Soren asked.
"I made it," Ike said.
"You...made it?" Soren said.
"Yup," Ike said. "No need to worry."
This only made Soren worry all the more. However, what was done was done. It would be the ultimate intrusion to have a stranger who wouldn't return not just take part in the festivities and be in the pictures, but now to give a speech about people he barely knew, and had by far seen the worst of them during this wedding.
Still Soren gave a curt nod, which was as close to a thanks as Ike was getting.
"Almedha was lamenting that she wouldn't be able to keep up some tradition of best men and their significant others dancing, or something."
Soren snorted. "Ignoring the fact that I can't walk, you'd step on my toes. It'd be a disaster."
"Probably," Ike said.
"Probably?" Soren said. "Are you hiding some ballroom dancing talent?"
"Nope. But we'd never know how it'd go until we try, right?" Ike asked.
"True," Soren said curtly.
"Hard to believe it's over already," Ike said.
"Yes, you'll be going in the morning. You performed admirably. Far better than I had hoped, in truth," Soren said.
"That's good," Ike said. He trailed off.
Soren noticed something in his lap. A bouquet of white roses with a splash of baby's breath.
"You caught the bouquet?"
"No, you did, actually. It fell into your lap," Ike said. "I offered to let her throw it again, but she said you'd won it fair and share."
Soren groaned. "This will start an endless prattle about us getting married."
"You already missed a lot of that," Ike said. "Your mother apparently plans baby names when she gets drunk. And talks too much about what she dislikes in her new daughter-in-law."
"At least she wasn't one of those histrionic brides they make reality television shows about," Soren said.
"Yeah, at least that," Ike said.
They fell silent. There was little left to be said in a contract which would expire when the clock turned midnight. Soren couldn't help thinking that Ike's comment you never know until you try had far more than dancing in mind.
"Well...It'll be time for more painkillers soon, anyways. Don't worry about the rest of it. We've held on until now, so we'll hang on a little longer. You being okay is the most important part," Ike said.
"I suppose," Soren said grudgingly. Relinquishing control was the hardest part. However, Ike had proven himself to be loyal to his contract and a surprisingly good example of humanity at that.
"But first, you should have some cake. I have to admit, it's pretty good. And I don't even like sweets that much," Ike said.
Ike lifted up the plastic fork, and Soren took a bite. It was humiliating, but the past days had been a series of humiliations, and this was no worse than say, seeing him in a hospital gown.
Ike was right. It was good. Not with the usual too-sweet taste of cakes used for such celebrations. It was organic, vegan, and had a more tart, natural taste. He could taste the hint of nutmeg.
He grimaced as the pain started up again. A few pills later and he was spiraling towards unconsciousness again. In his sleepy haze, the room became blurred like city lights at night from a distance. The love song faded into soft sounds. Only the feel of Ike's hand upon his shoulder felt constant.
*
Ike went in the next plane out. Soren wasn't there to say goodbye at the airport because, after all, he was just an employee, and besides, he had an appointment of some doctor or other scheduled at the same time.
It didn't matter, regardless. Ike was out of his life, his purpose fulfilled.
Soren stayed in Daein and ran the company more or less from his room at home. He would return to the main headquarters as soon as he was all healed, but for now even traveling would be a hassle not worth going through, no matter how much he disliked staying in his ancestral home.
He heard word that Lethe had gone into rehabilitation with heron songs to try and soothe the rage within her. He heard that Pelleas and Micaiah were happily honeymooning in a new resort in Kilvas. He watched over his company, filtered his commands through various assistants while his battered body slowly began to heal.
He didn't hear anything about Ike. Or from him, for that matter. Soren didn't exactly expect Ike to send him holiday greeting cards, but he still noticed this lack.
He had only known Ike a few weeks, but Ike had fit so seamlessly even throughout it all that was hard to remember at times. It felt as if they had known each other a long time, and Ike could read his every cue.
But in the end, Ike had just been a surprisingly good actor in these affair and a good bodyguard. That was that.
*
The pictures came in a week after Soren came off the painkillers. The chipper photographer delivered them personally, with little warning for that matter, except her barging in.
She pink hair in a pixie cut, and enough spunk to already make Soren hate her by default. She wore a little white mini-dress and strappy white sandals, and little gold bangles on her left wrist.
"Here's the wedding photos, just like you asked. And isn't that scrapbook cute? I bet the bride will love it when she returns." She giggled at this, though Soren saw no joke, or anything remotely humorous.
His casts still weren't off, so he motioned for an assistant to bring him the book of photos in question. The assistant was somewhat slow, and had on multiple instances, completely gotten requests wrong. Soren was too tired to hire another one at this rate, and for one tolerated incompetence.
He couldn't help thinking that Ike would had done a far better job.
The photographer took an annoyed glance at the phone. "Oh, crackers. I need to take this. Just check out the cute scrapbook I made your family while you wait!"
The assistant flipped open to the first page.
The medication had some nasty side effects which had knocked him out for most of the weddings, and most of the last three weeks as he His most lucid memory of the wedding was of the stained glass windows, with their myths of gods and legends staring down at him. He did remember some of the reception at least.
There was Ike feeding him something soft, another was Soren being wheeled across the room to a quieter corner. He had sat next to Pelleas, of course, so they both appeared in many photos (though, Soren suspected that the photographer might have been enjoying Ike a little too much).
Soren traced across the plastic. In many of them Ike was leaning over him protectively, or allowing Soren to rest against him. In the pictures, Soren had two black eyes, several bruises, and quite a few cuts bandaged over. In all of them where they appeared, he was being supported, carried, allowed to lean on. Ike had certainly gone above the line of duty.
With several curses said in a sugary sweet voice, the photographer cut the call short and then came back to them.
"Sooorry about that. I hope you like the pictures. Oh, here's the wedding video, if you wanna see it. You were out like a light by that time, but you can see plenty of that hunk of yours." She tittered as she handed him a disk.
The video started with Ike tapping a knife to his champagne glass. Soren was passed out beside him, and Ike took one last glance towards him, before he cleared his throat and began.
You've all probably heard that Soren went through a tough time, getting kidnapped and all, and won't be giving the speech. So, I'm doing it for him. I think it's what he would've wanted.
Ike rustled out a paper and held it up. I could read off what he said, but I don't think Soren had quite fixed on what he wanted to say, and because he's a perfectionist who doesn't like dealing with other people too much, he'd probably just be ticked off if I read this.
The microphone squeaked and people in the crowd cringed. Soren, having a certain weakness to high pitches winced too.
First impressions. On first impression, you'd think Pelleas was the sort of guy you wouldn't want for your football team, and Micaiah seems like some tree hugging hippie. And Soren comes off someone who is entirely cold
I think Soren cares far more than he lets on. He worked hard on this wedding not just because he's a perfectionist, but because he wanted the best for his little brother.
A nervous chuckle ran through the room, but Ike didn't seem to notice the atmosphere.
Every family has skeletons in the closet...and in this case, they're of the literal variety, but I think what's important is....is how much this family has survived through the hardest of times. And this couple too. Through kidnapping and fights and protests and differences of blood–they worked all through that and still love each other and that's a real bond there.
Ike lifted his glass and nodded. So, I know I'm a stranger to most of you, but I think I can speak for Soren when I say that I wish you a long, happy time together and that I fully expect you two will find it.
The group clapped. The photographer came up behind him and put it on pause. Ike was just reaching down to check on Soren again in the video, and his image was frozen just as he was gently touching Soren's shoulder with a tender glance his way.
"It's....sufficient," Soren said.
"Sufficient?" The photographer said incredulously. "I'd say it's top notch, but–"
"You've been paid, this is sufficient, it's all you need to know," Soren snapped. She looked taken aback.
"Well, fonduey. Who rained on your parade?" she said.
Soren just glared at her.
"I'll just be going, then. Remember, it's Rainbow Pegasus Photography if you have any more weddings you want photographed." She winked at this.
There was a tightness in his chest. He ordered the assistant to turn off the TV and the image of Ike with his gentle gaze and touch disappeared.
*
It took a couple months until the casts came off, but when they were, he happily dismissed the assistant. He had a new watch now, new phone and even new model of laptop to replace the old one which still worked fine, but wasn't quite as good as the new model.
Pelleas and Micaiah came back, but instead of moving into the keep, moved in with the rest of the group of protesters they hung out with. For a while, Soren thought this might mean his mother would spend the rest of her life now focused on this slight and not minding his love life, but it wasn't to be.
She kept bringing it up. When are you bringing that fine young man of yours back?
The words were there. It would be so simple to say We broke up but Soren couldn't bring himself to say it.
All he could reply was I'm too busy as if implying that some thread of connection between Ike and him still existed.
*
Soren hadn't expected there to be a welcoming committee in his office. He'd already been back a week.
There was a little banner above his desk. It was a little late for a welcome back party, but Kyza was always in the habit of being 'fashionably late'.
He frowned when he saw the banner.
"Intervention?" Soren asked.
"The path of true love never did run smooth, so we're doing construction. Love construction," Kyza said.
"You can't just let him go," Ranulf said.
"As it is, I can't believe you'd let that dreamy hunk out of your sight. He saved you! It was so romantic," Kyza said.
Ranulf gave Kyza a look.
"But he's not cuter than you, sir," Kyza said and patted Ranulf on the shoulder.
"He was an employee like any other. He played his part surprisingly well and proved himself a good actor, and now our contract has finished," Soren said evenly.
"Come on, boss. You know Ike can't act. He couldn't even pull off some grade-school skit, let alone a complex thing like this," Ranulf said. "Ike says whatever he feels. He's blunt and lacks any kind of artifice. Whatever he showed you during this role, that was how he felt."
"He took a blow to the chest for you. All the time you were gone, all he wanted was to get you back. When Ranulf, Micaiah and I were ready to give up, he was still charging into the dirtiest parts of your family's past to find you," Kyza said.
Soren thought back, remembering moments: The Frost Fair, and how they had so easily emulated the teasing playfulness of a couple; the moment of the faked kiss where he had pressed their foreheads together; the gentle concerned expression on the tape.
It left him unsettled, feeling as if something had been stripped away from himself. He rubbed at his arms reflexively, as if he was chilled.
"I've known him for years and can honestly say that there isn't a better guy out there," Ranulf said.
"I want you out of my office," he said in a quiet, severe manner.
"All right, boss," Ranulf said, a little sadly. "If that's what you want."
"It is," Soren said.
Kyza reached up and took the banner, while Ranulf opened the door for him, and they left together.
Soren sat down at his desk. For a long while he just sat there staring at his screen. The words and stats became an unreadable blob before him. He felt unfocused. He had never asked for this to grow between them. He hadn't intended to see Ike as anything but a temporary employee. And yet....
Lies or not, they'd been a good complement to each other. Ike had survived his family, and the unexpected turns that came with the wedding. He'd proven himself in more ways than one. It would be folly to let someone like Ike get away–not when he'd proven himself to be such a viable employee...and more.
No, he would keep Ike close.
A plan began to form inside his mind. He opened up a word processor program and began to start the first paragraph of a new contract.
*
As it was, Ike was still making ends meet on marginal low-paying jobs. It didn't take much to find him, a night shift at a grocery in Melior, a lumber store, and whatever other jobs he could get. The house was saved, but there was still college education for his sister and keeping up the bills.
Soren walked in that day, to the faint scent of wood and concrete in the lumber store. Ike hadn't quite looked up from his job, saying only "How can I help you?" when Soren held out the contract he'd spent a good portion of the night working on.
"I have a proposition to make," Soren said.
"Oh, hello Soren," Ike said casually. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"It's a detour," Soren admitted.
"Well, I didn't think you were looking for screws," Ike said.
If Ranulf was there, he'd surely have something to say about that. As he wasn't, the joke went unsaid.
"As you'll see in the contract, I found your conduct satisfactory, and would like to retain you as a bodyguard."
He pushed forward the contract, and Ike began to read through it, frowning in concentration. He wore a blue smock with the logo on it over his clothes, with a carpenter's belt and carpenter's jeans. Hammers hung from the loops, and the belt was fitted with screwdrivers, wrenches, and other assortment of tools.
Ike was a slow reader, and took his time going through the contract. It was in the middle of the day, when business was apparently slow, so they were not interrupted.
He got to one point which he seemed to reread several times.
"A clause on no dating?" Ike asked, looking questioningly up at Soren.
"I feel strongly on this issue, and it is non-negotiable. Lovers and families would simply become weaknesses should any issue arise again," Soren said.
"...you know, if you wanted to ask me out, you could have you know just asked. For the record, I would've said yes," Ike said.
Soren blushed–something he hadn't expected. He didn't blush like a schoolgirl. Then again, he didn't do a lot of things. Like trust people. And here he was, bridging that gap and putting it all on the line.
"That is...." He cleared his throat.
"You too, huh?" Ike said.
"Excuse me?" Soren said.
"Ranulf has been telling me I needed to get with you and that we were meant to be...stuff like that," Ike said. "He even gave me tips."
"He and Kyza staged an intervention," Soren said.
"Sounds like them," Ike said with a grin. "So, how about we go over this contract over dinner? My sister makes a mean casserole. Except with her, it literally is mean in a stomach ache causing way."
Soren bit his lip, but couldn't quite hide the hint of a smile at Ike's pathetic attempt at humor.
"I will have to check my schedule," he said automatically. It was his default response to every invitation, no matter of what importance. He already knew that he had absolutely nothing planned and would accept this invitation quite soon, but protocol was protocol.
"Until then, you know where we live," Ike said. "I guess I don't exactly have to give directions."
"No, that would be unnecessary," Soren murmured.
"All right, good. I'll be waiting," Ike said.
He might have said more, but a customer came in at that moment. And Ike was loyal. He was going to finish out that last day of work no matter what. Ike didn't hear Soren's quiet I'll be there before he slipped out. Last he saw, Ike was guiding the middle-aged woman in back for 2x4s. When Soren got back to his car, he took several deep breaths trying to take it all in.
Just one talk and his life had changed. But then, no. His life had slowly begun to change with every little first. The first interview, the first time he'd ever made a snow angel, the first time he'd ever been at ease.
These little steps were hard to take, but he knew in this case he would regret it if he let Ike out of his life. He was more than just a valuable employee, he was many possibilities Soren could barely bring himself to consider.
It was too sudden, too soon, but Soren forced the anxiety down and moved on.
He'd survived torture, kidnappings, living with a tyrant and some of the most cutthroat business meetings in the business. He could survive meeting Ike's family. After all, Ike had met his and seen just about every bad thing in they'd hidden away in the process.
At the very least, Soren didn't think he'd be kidnapped on the way. Though he knew that if he was, Ike would get him back. Ike had proven that much, at least.
*
Soren parked outside the house for a long time before going in. It was a large house, one that apparently housed quite a few people, as it looked like a whole halfway house was contained inside. He noticed some people who resembled the group he'd seen in the photo of Ike's: a green-haired man who squinted out into the fading day as he watered the roses; a man with long red hair swaying a little drunkenly along with a more stout barrel-chested friend he was leaning on and who seemed just as drunk as he was; a tall, statuesque redhead who carried in something heavy while a more delicate man in a cleric's frock followed behind her, his apologetic, sickly manner reminding Soren of Pelleas.
When he finally knocked on the door, a cheerful younger boy opened it. He had green hair and was wearing a forest green t-shirt about a camp for archery and a pair of very short shorts of a lighter lime green color.
"Miiiist, he's here!" The boy called back.
Mist was wearing a yellow sundress partly hidden behind an apron with a lot of frilly and a floral pattern. She still had a ladle in hand.
"It's about time Ike brought you home! Jill told me he had someone, and he didn't even tell us at all. I'm still mad at you for that, by the way," his sister said.
Ike appeared from out of the living room. He was out of his smock and in more casual clothes of ripped jeans, his camouflage shirt and orange sneakers. He smoothed the wrinkles out of his shirt, and smiled at Soren.
"Come on in," Ike said. "Don't mind her, she's just being a busybody."
"Am not," she said. She stuck her tongue out at him.
"I suppose this is your revenge," Soren said in an undertone.
"Revenge?" Ike asked, one brow raised.
"I introduce you to my crazy family, and you do likewise," Soren said.
"Actually I think that's called dating," Ike said.
"Well, either way the first hardly counted," Soren said.
"I think it counted. I wouldn't have gone with you if I didn't like you," Ike said.
While he had been in his casts, Soren had wondered what counted among the moments. But Ike had answered the question succinctly before he even raised it. Every single one.
Ike led them to the living room. The tv had on a basketball game that Ike muted. Soren studied the room with his hand folded behind his back, gazing extra long at at pastoral paintings of flowers done in watercolor. He assumed a family member had done them. Despite their brightness, they seemed to cast a solemn, even nostalgic pallor over the house.
"My mother did those," Ike said. "I think she'd have liked you....both of them would, really."
"My father would probably like you. He always did like well-muscled men," Soren said absently. "Then again, he hated heroes and protestors, so I'm not sure your physique would cancel out what he would consider 'your failings'."
"I don't think we'd get along," Ike said with a wry smile.
"No one much did," Soren said.
The topic shifted as a they settled on other things. A picture on the mantle caught Soren's eye, and Ike took it down.
"This is Oscar," he said. He pointed to the green-haired man he had seen tend to the rosebushes earlier.
"He's the oldest of the brothers. Second oldest is Boyd," he said. He pointed to a green-haired boy
"And that's Rolf, the youngest."
Soren recognized the boy who had opened the door for him.
Ike went through the names, one by one. Rhys was the fragile man in a cleric's cossack; Titania the tall redhead who had carried the things inside; Shinon the drunken man, and Gatrie his companion. He'd already met Mist, and said as much before Ike could introduce her.
"Are they...cousins?" Soren asked. "Uncles and aunts? Otherwise related?"
"No, they're not blood related. Only Mist is. But they're still family," Ike said.
"I see," Soren said.
It seemed the late Greil had a habit of collecting strays.
"You're going to get a lot of questions. Shinon is prickly, so it's best to just ignore him, especially if he's drunk, which he is most of the time. The rest should be okay, though," Ike said.
"Last time, I did the coaching," Soren noted.
"This isn't really coaching it's just...okay, it's sort of coaching," Ike said.
Soren looked up as they were called in. Most of the faces that greeted him were curious, open and kind, save for Shinon who looked hostile and about to pass out on the table.
"You'll be paying me back for this next week for the celebratory ball my mother is hosting," Soren muttered.
"I'll be looking forward to it," Ike said.
Soren snorted. "You hate balls."
"But you'll be there, so it'll be tolerable at the very least," Ike said.
The table was set out for guests. A leaf had even been added, and yet it was still quite a snug fit. Soren was seated beside Ike, and his arm kept brushing Soren's. It was quite a distraction, which set a strange light feeling inside him.
Every time Soren would will himself not to look to Ike, but each time would fail. Rolf giggled at this, and Mist joined in. Soren focused dourly on his plate.
Ike remained oblivious as ever in regards to the amusement of the rest of the table.
Rhys said some sort of grace, wherein hand holding was involved. Soren closed his eyes. He had never been religious in the least, but could at the very least be civil to Rhys's beliefs. He was more focused on the feel of Ike's hand in his, rough and warm with the thumb stroking his inner palm.
After the prayer they held hands for ten whole seconds longer than necessary. They might've even held longer had Rolf not giggled again and Mist leveled a knowing look at them.
Soren cleared his throat and rearranged his napkin and fork until it was perfectly aligned. Ike continued to not get the awkwardness of the situation–he had a genuine talent for this, Soren thought wrly.
"So how did you two meet?" Mist asked.
Ike and Soren both exchanged a glance. Mist knew about Ike's employment history and knew that being a waiter wasn't something he'd done a lot of.
"We...." Soren began, searching for the words to explain this away.
"...met at a wedding," Ike finished for him.
They shared a smile, a beginning. One of the first of many in-jokes to start between them.
Everyone at the table seemed satisfied at this answer, except Shinon who simply seemed inebriated and sullen. It seemed such a warm, comforting place by comparison to the Keep. Ike's hand brushed his under the table–an accident, or a secret between them? He wondered then, if all the earlier bumps and touches had been intentional, as well. Soren turned to him, questioning, but Ike didn't say anything, didn't reveal if it meant it or if it was a nice happenstance. He just smiled. The warm feeling welled up in Soren again.
There were so many possibilities ready to unfold. It made him anxious because the world was filled with uncaring, cruel people. To say nothing of the uncaring, cruel tyrant who had raised him and used him as a pawn, wrecked his mother's mental health for the sake of some amusement.
One day he would tell Ike. One day....
But if anyone was worth trying to trust, Ike was the one. He knew that much for sure.
Day/Theme: 5/31. love can change any pessimist
Series: FE10
Character/Pairing: Ike/Soren eventual, Pelleas/Micaiah, Kyza/Ranulf
Summary: Soren, the head CEO of Nevassa Corp, is entirely tired of his mother's nagging, and so
sets out to hire a date for the holidays and his brother's upcoming wedding. After several disastrous interviews, he comes across Ike who thought it was a bodyguard job and really needs the money.
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 7406
Author's note: And this is truly the last part. Thanks to Joss for betaing. Any remaining errors are mine, as I couldn't leave it alone and had to revise a part of the ending while I was at it.
With luck, I'll be revising earlier parts of the story, along with other works over the summer with my beta.
*
The hospital room was claustrophobic in its smallness, and the whole brightness of the place was giving him a headache. He wasn't cold, though. He squinted up and heard a scuffing of feet, and the light being dimmed.
There was a dry, foul taste in his mouth. He groaned. Pain radiated through his body, seemingly from every pore and muscle.
"Good to see you back," Ike said. He sat down on the chair near the bed.
"How long have I been out?" Soren asked.
"A while?" Ike squinted at his watch, which was turned inwards towards his wrist.
"About ten hours, I think," Ike said. He stretched and yawned. There was a bandage over his left arm, just visible under his green t-shirt with a camouflage pattern. His beat-up army jacket–one of the few things he had been allowed to take with him—lay over Soren's chest.
"Everyone else went back. There was talk of calling hospital security on me, but Micaiah did some of her empathy Voodoo Jedi mind tricks. Also I towered over the guy."
"Heh....." Soren flinched, and touched to his rib cage. Both his wrists were in splints. The IV bag near the bed tottered for a moment, but Ike steadied it.
Ike reached out, but stopped just short of touching Soren. "Careful, now...."
"How hurt am I?" Soren asked.
"Lots of bruises, broken wrists, broken leg, broken arm and three broken ribs. Maybe more, I don't remember the details. It was pretty bad when you came in."
"Ten hours...that'd mean that the wedding is in a few hours," Soren said.
"Don't worry about the wedding," Ike said.
"I've spent the last sixteen years of my life having to deal with demands about grandchildren.. I had to hire a date to be at this wedding. Pelleas is getting married even if I have to put a shotgun to his back," Soren said in irritation.
"At this point...I'm not even sure if there's going to be a wedding," Ike said.
"What?" Soren said incredulously.
"Micaiah and Pelleas apparently got in a fight or something. Something about not being sure she can marry into a family of murderers. I only heard it secondhand, as it apparently happened at The Keep."
Soren blinked, realization finally dawning past the haze of painkillers. "You stayed here all night?"
"I've been here since they moved you here," Ike said. He stated it simply, as if it merited no question that he would keep up the facade and pretend to be his lover.
"I see," Soren said. "Help me up."
"You're still injured–you might hurt yourself worse–"
"I have a job to do with a nervous groom, a meddling mother and a family of the bride who consists of thieves. I need to keep them from stealing the draperies, Pelleas from going into a fetal position and my mother from scaring the bride away. I don't have time to be hurt."
They stared each other down. If Soren's hands hadn't been in a cast, he wouldn've put both of them on his hips.
"You're the boss," Ike said.
Ike carefully picked Soren up and carried him bridal style out, the IV rolling along with them.
*
Actually getting home involved a pay phone and getting ahold of Bryce and convincing him that the Nevassa legacy was in danger, and being the son of Ashnard, he could handle a few broken bones. There was also the matter of stealing a wheelchair, but that was quite a bit easier than the first.
When they arrived, Ike was still carrying Soren. Getting up the stairs had been a chore, but finally they made it to where Micaiah, her brother and his friend were gathered in one of the guest bedrooms.
Tormod knelt before the door, and peered under the crack.
"I could blow up the door," Tormod said hopefully.
"You're not blowing up the door," Micaiah said.
"Pelleas locked himself in a closet and won't come out," Sothe said. He rolled his eyes and looked over at the closet in disdain.
"As you can see, I have to get my brother to come out of the closet now," Soren said.
"Interesting phrasing," Ike said.
"Said by the one who has a boyfriend," Tormod piped in.
"Pelleas, please come out of the closet," Micaiah said.
"I can't."
The redhead was snickering. Micaiah shot him a you're not helping glare. She knelt down on her knees beside the door.
"Pelleas...." Micaiah said.
"I don't blame you for it all, really. Father did some horrible things...."
"I was wrong to have blamed you," Micaiah said. "They were his crimes, not yours."
"It doesn't help that poor sub-hum—laguz any," Pelleas said softly. "She still felt it, no matter which of us was doing it. Besides I...I felt prejudice towards the laguz, and the Branded. I never would've guessed you were one of them."
Micaiah fell silent too.
"I should have told you. I thought I could keep it a secret like I always have and just keep living, but you would've seen to it. I'm sorry for not telling you, Pelleas."
"I'm sorry for ever doubting you–or the laguz, or the Branded. It–it—I suppose it was just how I was raised, though that's no real excuse..." Pelleas said.
"I forgive you," she said. "Now you need to learn forgive yourself. You've begun to change, that's the important part."
Pelleas' voice was low as he spoke again.
"But that's not all...Do you know that there was this pair–this vicious pair who were saying that you were marrying me for my money–How could they say such a thing, Micaiah?"
She kneeled on the floor and touched the door. "Why would you listen to such awful things? They're just gossiping harpies."
"I wanted this wedding to be good for you. And then things kept happening, the fur, the meat, Soren getting kidnapped....I convinced myself that if the wedding was good enough, then maybe I'd be good enough...But, I'm not strong, and I'm not dashing...Soren brings home this handsome boyfriend–the kind of guy father always wanted us to be–and all I can think is that maybe you'd rather have someone like him. Someone who's...well, strong."
"I've dated guys like that before and it's not what I want. It's you I want to be married to, you I chose."
"But you're so beautiful and kind and wonderful and graceful and...wonderful. Sometimes I wonder what you see in me at all."
"You have a good heart," she said. "You're kind and gentle despite all the cruelty you grew up with."
"I...I guess I'm just being a fool."
"Obviously," Soren cut in. "Now if you don't get out of there now, I will have Ike break down the door and physically carry you out. I will find shotguns if necessary because we are not rescheduling this wedding no matter how insecure you're feeling. The catering alone took five months to book."
The door slowly opened. Pelleas stepped out sheepishly. He bit his lip and looked down, abashed. "I'm...I'm sorry. I think I had an attack of nerves."
"Pelleas, if this isn't right for you, I won't force you," Micaiah said.
"I will," Soren said.
"Oh no, it's not cold feet! I always wanted to marry you. I just wasn't sure if I deserved it."
"You both perfectly deserve each other," Soren spat out.
"Yes, we do," Micaiah said, fondness filling her voice.
She reached out and embraced him. He nuzzled close against her, his hands in her pale hair.
"Please don't leave again," Pelleas murmured into her hair.
"...I can't promise I'll never leave. I'm going to live a long time...but I promise that I will be by your side for as long as I live."
"Micaiah, I–"
Their reunion was cut short by a shriek, and Almedha rushing into the room.
"What are you doing out of the hospital?!" Almedha said.
Soren couldn't exactly claim he had been released early, considering that he still wore the hospital gown and had the IV trailing beside him.
"We were saving a wedding," Ike said.
Almedha turned her attention to where Pelleas and Micaiah were. They no longer embraced, but stood close and hand in hand.
"I suppose I owe you thanks for bringing my son home," she said in a clipped tone.
Almedha seemed to bite back whatever cutting remark about protesters she had been thinking of beforehand to give her begrudging gratitude.
"Micaiah is Branded," Pelleas said. "And I...I'm not going to go around hiding it or trying to excuse it."
"I may have quite a few complaints against her, but her bloodline wasn't one of them. Your brother is Branded as well," she said.
"Soren is....What about me?" Pelleas said.
"You're adopted," Almedha said dismissively.
Pelleas paled, and Micaiah rubbed his back in a soothing gesture. He looked as if his knees might buckle at this realization.
Ike and carried Soren out to the hall, unnoticed in the last commotion as the rest of Micaiah's group had come in to greet the group.
"And there you have it," Soren said. "All the deep family secrets."
"Did you know?" Ike asked.
"Yes," Soren said. "I had a suspicion and had a blood test done when I took over the company. Needless to say, I kept it from the public eye. Consorting with laguz is hardly looked well upon in Daein."
"I can guess," Ike said.
"The question is, do you wish to continue your contract in lieu of this?" Soren asked.
"What? You're firing me?" Ike asked incredulously.
"No. I am offering the possibility of an early leave if the thought of being near a Branded is something you find loathsome. As long as you kept to the contact of silence on matters of what you witnessed in the Keep, you will be able to leave and go back to your life. I could fabricate some fight and have Kyza purchase some plane tickets back to Crimea before the weekend is over."
"Soren–I ran around in your father's dungeons. If I can handle that, I think I can handle that your mother is a laguz. I don't care about any of this–your parent's history, whatever."
"All right," Soren said softly.
*
Ike had rescued him from the family dungeons, met his family, found out his bloodline and seen him in a hospital gown. As if that wasn't enough, he also helped Soren dress.
They'd had to cut off large pieces of the tux, much to Soren's annoyance, which meant he'd never get his deposit back on it. Had only his legs been broken, he might've been able to make it on crutches, but as it was, he could only go via a wheelchair.
"You don't have to do this," Soren said. "I paid you to be an ersatz lover and to put up with my family, not a nurse."
"You can't exactly wheel yourself. You can't even make it on crutches like this," Ike said. "Besides, I don't mind."
"This goes beyond the contract," Soren muttered.
"Well, I guess you'll just have to pay me extra then," Ike said with a slight smile. "It's okay to need people sometimes."
Soren didn't reply.
"You don't have to do everything. The wedding is going to go fine. You did a great job setting it all up. So, take your pain killers, Soren," Ike said. "It's the least you can do, considering you aren't even supposed to be out of the hospital yet."
"No," Soren said through gritted teeth. He'd been in pain since he'd woken up, but he found the painkillers had a side effect of making him drowsy.
"That wasn't a suggestion," Ike said.
"Are you ordering me?" Soren asked incredulously.
Ike bent until he was on his level.
"Trust me. I'll take care of everything. You've been through enough pain, and I don't want to see you go through anymore."
Soren looked to where he held the pills in his calloused hands.
"Fine," he said. Ike helped put the pills in his mouth, and gave him a little water from an old half-drunk water bottle he had lying around.
"Let's go," Soren said.
Ike wheeled him out.
It was only fitting that one of Ashnard's children would have armed guards at his wedding. This decision wasn't the bride or the groom's doing, but Almedha's own influence, despite Micaiah's protests in the matter.
However, they were contracted at short notice, which tended to involve bridesmaids and flower girls getting large guns shoved in their faces amidst demands of identification.
"And you are?" Said the guard in question. He was a beefy looking man in dark sunglasses, and wore no nametag.
"I'm with the best man," Ike said
"I don't see you on the list," the guard said.
"No, you don't understand. We're co-best men," Ike said.
The usher looked as if for a moment he might contest that claim, but Soren cut in.
"He's with me. Now, if you want to keep your current contract and ever be hired again, I'd advise you let us in."
"So be it," he said instead with a curt wave.
Ike wheeled them up to the front where it looked like Pelleas might faint. There was murmuring through the crowd, but Soren didn't look back. The bridal march was played by Sothe and some of the bridesmen, who apparently moonlit in a band. Soren kept checking for a watch which he no longer had–it had been ruined in the dungeons. He could already feel the drug setting in. Ike moved his wrist so Soren could check the clock on his plain blue sports watch which was turned inwards.
But finally, after Tormod's guitar solo which made some of the audience flip up lighters in appreciation, the bride came.
Through stained glass windows fell ethereal light down over the bride as she came in. Pelleas looked at her in wonder, in her all-natural organically grown hemp wedding dress and white flowers braided into her pale hair. The veil was the same one his mother had worn, made of Goldoan silken fibers woven together with intricate patterns of roses of damask.
The flowers were a mix of white roses with a splash of baby's breath. The bride and groom looked nervously to each other–or at least Pelleas did. Micaiah radiated a serenity which seemed infectious. She adeptly put the bouquet in one hand, and took his hand in the other.
It was unconventional, but it was better than having the groom faint.
Everything became a blur after that. He knew he was slumping over onto Ike, too tired to keep his eyes open.
The side effects had come in, just as he had expected. His last conscious thought was that it was all up to Ike now, a thought that should've made him far more anxious than it did.
*
He woke up in the reception. He blinked several times. A few people were on the dance floor slow dancing; Pelleas was not one of them. Soren wondered if there had been some event of tripping which cut short the traditional dance by the groom and bride. Sothe and a few of the other bridesmen were playing a slow song, while Tormod crooned a love song into the microphone, occasionally cutting meaningful glance towards Sothe.
"Ike–" Soren said, looking about him. For all purposes, it seemed empty save for an elderly couple he didn't recognize, but was surely some distant family three tables down.
"It's okay, I'm right here," Ike said.
Soren saw him now, moving into view and pulling up a folding chair to sit beside the wheelchair.
"What did I miss?" Soren asked.
"Some vows and stuff. Cake cutting. I got a piece for you," Ike said. He pushed a piece of white cake with gold trim towards Soren.
"And the best man's speech?" Soren asked.
"I made it," Ike said.
"You...made it?" Soren said.
"Yup," Ike said. "No need to worry."
This only made Soren worry all the more. However, what was done was done. It would be the ultimate intrusion to have a stranger who wouldn't return not just take part in the festivities and be in the pictures, but now to give a speech about people he barely knew, and had by far seen the worst of them during this wedding.
Still Soren gave a curt nod, which was as close to a thanks as Ike was getting.
"Almedha was lamenting that she wouldn't be able to keep up some tradition of best men and their significant others dancing, or something."
Soren snorted. "Ignoring the fact that I can't walk, you'd step on my toes. It'd be a disaster."
"Probably," Ike said.
"Probably?" Soren said. "Are you hiding some ballroom dancing talent?"
"Nope. But we'd never know how it'd go until we try, right?" Ike asked.
"True," Soren said curtly.
"Hard to believe it's over already," Ike said.
"Yes, you'll be going in the morning. You performed admirably. Far better than I had hoped, in truth," Soren said.
"That's good," Ike said. He trailed off.
Soren noticed something in his lap. A bouquet of white roses with a splash of baby's breath.
"You caught the bouquet?"
"No, you did, actually. It fell into your lap," Ike said. "I offered to let her throw it again, but she said you'd won it fair and share."
Soren groaned. "This will start an endless prattle about us getting married."
"You already missed a lot of that," Ike said. "Your mother apparently plans baby names when she gets drunk. And talks too much about what she dislikes in her new daughter-in-law."
"At least she wasn't one of those histrionic brides they make reality television shows about," Soren said.
"Yeah, at least that," Ike said.
They fell silent. There was little left to be said in a contract which would expire when the clock turned midnight. Soren couldn't help thinking that Ike's comment you never know until you try had far more than dancing in mind.
"Well...It'll be time for more painkillers soon, anyways. Don't worry about the rest of it. We've held on until now, so we'll hang on a little longer. You being okay is the most important part," Ike said.
"I suppose," Soren said grudgingly. Relinquishing control was the hardest part. However, Ike had proven himself to be loyal to his contract and a surprisingly good example of humanity at that.
"But first, you should have some cake. I have to admit, it's pretty good. And I don't even like sweets that much," Ike said.
Ike lifted up the plastic fork, and Soren took a bite. It was humiliating, but the past days had been a series of humiliations, and this was no worse than say, seeing him in a hospital gown.
Ike was right. It was good. Not with the usual too-sweet taste of cakes used for such celebrations. It was organic, vegan, and had a more tart, natural taste. He could taste the hint of nutmeg.
He grimaced as the pain started up again. A few pills later and he was spiraling towards unconsciousness again. In his sleepy haze, the room became blurred like city lights at night from a distance. The love song faded into soft sounds. Only the feel of Ike's hand upon his shoulder felt constant.
*
Ike went in the next plane out. Soren wasn't there to say goodbye at the airport because, after all, he was just an employee, and besides, he had an appointment of some doctor or other scheduled at the same time.
It didn't matter, regardless. Ike was out of his life, his purpose fulfilled.
Soren stayed in Daein and ran the company more or less from his room at home. He would return to the main headquarters as soon as he was all healed, but for now even traveling would be a hassle not worth going through, no matter how much he disliked staying in his ancestral home.
He heard word that Lethe had gone into rehabilitation with heron songs to try and soothe the rage within her. He heard that Pelleas and Micaiah were happily honeymooning in a new resort in Kilvas. He watched over his company, filtered his commands through various assistants while his battered body slowly began to heal.
He didn't hear anything about Ike. Or from him, for that matter. Soren didn't exactly expect Ike to send him holiday greeting cards, but he still noticed this lack.
He had only known Ike a few weeks, but Ike had fit so seamlessly even throughout it all that was hard to remember at times. It felt as if they had known each other a long time, and Ike could read his every cue.
But in the end, Ike had just been a surprisingly good actor in these affair and a good bodyguard. That was that.
*
The pictures came in a week after Soren came off the painkillers. The chipper photographer delivered them personally, with little warning for that matter, except her barging in.
She pink hair in a pixie cut, and enough spunk to already make Soren hate her by default. She wore a little white mini-dress and strappy white sandals, and little gold bangles on her left wrist.
"Here's the wedding photos, just like you asked. And isn't that scrapbook cute? I bet the bride will love it when she returns." She giggled at this, though Soren saw no joke, or anything remotely humorous.
His casts still weren't off, so he motioned for an assistant to bring him the book of photos in question. The assistant was somewhat slow, and had on multiple instances, completely gotten requests wrong. Soren was too tired to hire another one at this rate, and for one tolerated incompetence.
He couldn't help thinking that Ike would had done a far better job.
The photographer took an annoyed glance at the phone. "Oh, crackers. I need to take this. Just check out the cute scrapbook I made your family while you wait!"
The assistant flipped open to the first page.
The medication had some nasty side effects which had knocked him out for most of the weddings, and most of the last three weeks as he His most lucid memory of the wedding was of the stained glass windows, with their myths of gods and legends staring down at him. He did remember some of the reception at least.
There was Ike feeding him something soft, another was Soren being wheeled across the room to a quieter corner. He had sat next to Pelleas, of course, so they both appeared in many photos (though, Soren suspected that the photographer might have been enjoying Ike a little too much).
Soren traced across the plastic. In many of them Ike was leaning over him protectively, or allowing Soren to rest against him. In the pictures, Soren had two black eyes, several bruises, and quite a few cuts bandaged over. In all of them where they appeared, he was being supported, carried, allowed to lean on. Ike had certainly gone above the line of duty.
With several curses said in a sugary sweet voice, the photographer cut the call short and then came back to them.
"Sooorry about that. I hope you like the pictures. Oh, here's the wedding video, if you wanna see it. You were out like a light by that time, but you can see plenty of that hunk of yours." She tittered as she handed him a disk.
The video started with Ike tapping a knife to his champagne glass. Soren was passed out beside him, and Ike took one last glance towards him, before he cleared his throat and began.
You've all probably heard that Soren went through a tough time, getting kidnapped and all, and won't be giving the speech. So, I'm doing it for him. I think it's what he would've wanted.
Ike rustled out a paper and held it up. I could read off what he said, but I don't think Soren had quite fixed on what he wanted to say, and because he's a perfectionist who doesn't like dealing with other people too much, he'd probably just be ticked off if I read this.
The microphone squeaked and people in the crowd cringed. Soren, having a certain weakness to high pitches winced too.
First impressions. On first impression, you'd think Pelleas was the sort of guy you wouldn't want for your football team, and Micaiah seems like some tree hugging hippie. And Soren comes off someone who is entirely cold
I think Soren cares far more than he lets on. He worked hard on this wedding not just because he's a perfectionist, but because he wanted the best for his little brother.
A nervous chuckle ran through the room, but Ike didn't seem to notice the atmosphere.
Every family has skeletons in the closet...and in this case, they're of the literal variety, but I think what's important is....is how much this family has survived through the hardest of times. And this couple too. Through kidnapping and fights and protests and differences of blood–they worked all through that and still love each other and that's a real bond there.
Ike lifted his glass and nodded. So, I know I'm a stranger to most of you, but I think I can speak for Soren when I say that I wish you a long, happy time together and that I fully expect you two will find it.
The group clapped. The photographer came up behind him and put it on pause. Ike was just reaching down to check on Soren again in the video, and his image was frozen just as he was gently touching Soren's shoulder with a tender glance his way.
"It's....sufficient," Soren said.
"Sufficient?" The photographer said incredulously. "I'd say it's top notch, but–"
"You've been paid, this is sufficient, it's all you need to know," Soren snapped. She looked taken aback.
"Well, fonduey. Who rained on your parade?" she said.
Soren just glared at her.
"I'll just be going, then. Remember, it's Rainbow Pegasus Photography if you have any more weddings you want photographed." She winked at this.
There was a tightness in his chest. He ordered the assistant to turn off the TV and the image of Ike with his gentle gaze and touch disappeared.
*
It took a couple months until the casts came off, but when they were, he happily dismissed the assistant. He had a new watch now, new phone and even new model of laptop to replace the old one which still worked fine, but wasn't quite as good as the new model.
Pelleas and Micaiah came back, but instead of moving into the keep, moved in with the rest of the group of protesters they hung out with. For a while, Soren thought this might mean his mother would spend the rest of her life now focused on this slight and not minding his love life, but it wasn't to be.
She kept bringing it up. When are you bringing that fine young man of yours back?
The words were there. It would be so simple to say We broke up but Soren couldn't bring himself to say it.
All he could reply was I'm too busy as if implying that some thread of connection between Ike and him still existed.
*
Soren hadn't expected there to be a welcoming committee in his office. He'd already been back a week.
There was a little banner above his desk. It was a little late for a welcome back party, but Kyza was always in the habit of being 'fashionably late'.
He frowned when he saw the banner.
"Intervention?" Soren asked.
"The path of true love never did run smooth, so we're doing construction. Love construction," Kyza said.
"You can't just let him go," Ranulf said.
"As it is, I can't believe you'd let that dreamy hunk out of your sight. He saved you! It was so romantic," Kyza said.
Ranulf gave Kyza a look.
"But he's not cuter than you, sir," Kyza said and patted Ranulf on the shoulder.
"He was an employee like any other. He played his part surprisingly well and proved himself a good actor, and now our contract has finished," Soren said evenly.
"Come on, boss. You know Ike can't act. He couldn't even pull off some grade-school skit, let alone a complex thing like this," Ranulf said. "Ike says whatever he feels. He's blunt and lacks any kind of artifice. Whatever he showed you during this role, that was how he felt."
"He took a blow to the chest for you. All the time you were gone, all he wanted was to get you back. When Ranulf, Micaiah and I were ready to give up, he was still charging into the dirtiest parts of your family's past to find you," Kyza said.
Soren thought back, remembering moments: The Frost Fair, and how they had so easily emulated the teasing playfulness of a couple; the moment of the faked kiss where he had pressed their foreheads together; the gentle concerned expression on the tape.
It left him unsettled, feeling as if something had been stripped away from himself. He rubbed at his arms reflexively, as if he was chilled.
"I've known him for years and can honestly say that there isn't a better guy out there," Ranulf said.
"I want you out of my office," he said in a quiet, severe manner.
"All right, boss," Ranulf said, a little sadly. "If that's what you want."
"It is," Soren said.
Kyza reached up and took the banner, while Ranulf opened the door for him, and they left together.
Soren sat down at his desk. For a long while he just sat there staring at his screen. The words and stats became an unreadable blob before him. He felt unfocused. He had never asked for this to grow between them. He hadn't intended to see Ike as anything but a temporary employee. And yet....
Lies or not, they'd been a good complement to each other. Ike had survived his family, and the unexpected turns that came with the wedding. He'd proven himself in more ways than one. It would be folly to let someone like Ike get away–not when he'd proven himself to be such a viable employee...and more.
No, he would keep Ike close.
A plan began to form inside his mind. He opened up a word processor program and began to start the first paragraph of a new contract.
*
As it was, Ike was still making ends meet on marginal low-paying jobs. It didn't take much to find him, a night shift at a grocery in Melior, a lumber store, and whatever other jobs he could get. The house was saved, but there was still college education for his sister and keeping up the bills.
Soren walked in that day, to the faint scent of wood and concrete in the lumber store. Ike hadn't quite looked up from his job, saying only "How can I help you?" when Soren held out the contract he'd spent a good portion of the night working on.
"I have a proposition to make," Soren said.
"Oh, hello Soren," Ike said casually. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"It's a detour," Soren admitted.
"Well, I didn't think you were looking for screws," Ike said.
If Ranulf was there, he'd surely have something to say about that. As he wasn't, the joke went unsaid.
"As you'll see in the contract, I found your conduct satisfactory, and would like to retain you as a bodyguard."
He pushed forward the contract, and Ike began to read through it, frowning in concentration. He wore a blue smock with the logo on it over his clothes, with a carpenter's belt and carpenter's jeans. Hammers hung from the loops, and the belt was fitted with screwdrivers, wrenches, and other assortment of tools.
Ike was a slow reader, and took his time going through the contract. It was in the middle of the day, when business was apparently slow, so they were not interrupted.
He got to one point which he seemed to reread several times.
"A clause on no dating?" Ike asked, looking questioningly up at Soren.
"I feel strongly on this issue, and it is non-negotiable. Lovers and families would simply become weaknesses should any issue arise again," Soren said.
"...you know, if you wanted to ask me out, you could have you know just asked. For the record, I would've said yes," Ike said.
Soren blushed–something he hadn't expected. He didn't blush like a schoolgirl. Then again, he didn't do a lot of things. Like trust people. And here he was, bridging that gap and putting it all on the line.
"That is...." He cleared his throat.
"You too, huh?" Ike said.
"Excuse me?" Soren said.
"Ranulf has been telling me I needed to get with you and that we were meant to be...stuff like that," Ike said. "He even gave me tips."
"He and Kyza staged an intervention," Soren said.
"Sounds like them," Ike said with a grin. "So, how about we go over this contract over dinner? My sister makes a mean casserole. Except with her, it literally is mean in a stomach ache causing way."
Soren bit his lip, but couldn't quite hide the hint of a smile at Ike's pathetic attempt at humor.
"I will have to check my schedule," he said automatically. It was his default response to every invitation, no matter of what importance. He already knew that he had absolutely nothing planned and would accept this invitation quite soon, but protocol was protocol.
"Until then, you know where we live," Ike said. "I guess I don't exactly have to give directions."
"No, that would be unnecessary," Soren murmured.
"All right, good. I'll be waiting," Ike said.
He might have said more, but a customer came in at that moment. And Ike was loyal. He was going to finish out that last day of work no matter what. Ike didn't hear Soren's quiet I'll be there before he slipped out. Last he saw, Ike was guiding the middle-aged woman in back for 2x4s. When Soren got back to his car, he took several deep breaths trying to take it all in.
Just one talk and his life had changed. But then, no. His life had slowly begun to change with every little first. The first interview, the first time he'd ever made a snow angel, the first time he'd ever been at ease.
These little steps were hard to take, but he knew in this case he would regret it if he let Ike out of his life. He was more than just a valuable employee, he was many possibilities Soren could barely bring himself to consider.
It was too sudden, too soon, but Soren forced the anxiety down and moved on.
He'd survived torture, kidnappings, living with a tyrant and some of the most cutthroat business meetings in the business. He could survive meeting Ike's family. After all, Ike had met his and seen just about every bad thing in they'd hidden away in the process.
At the very least, Soren didn't think he'd be kidnapped on the way. Though he knew that if he was, Ike would get him back. Ike had proven that much, at least.
*
Soren parked outside the house for a long time before going in. It was a large house, one that apparently housed quite a few people, as it looked like a whole halfway house was contained inside. He noticed some people who resembled the group he'd seen in the photo of Ike's: a green-haired man who squinted out into the fading day as he watered the roses; a man with long red hair swaying a little drunkenly along with a more stout barrel-chested friend he was leaning on and who seemed just as drunk as he was; a tall, statuesque redhead who carried in something heavy while a more delicate man in a cleric's frock followed behind her, his apologetic, sickly manner reminding Soren of Pelleas.
When he finally knocked on the door, a cheerful younger boy opened it. He had green hair and was wearing a forest green t-shirt about a camp for archery and a pair of very short shorts of a lighter lime green color.
"Miiiist, he's here!" The boy called back.
Mist was wearing a yellow sundress partly hidden behind an apron with a lot of frilly and a floral pattern. She still had a ladle in hand.
"It's about time Ike brought you home! Jill told me he had someone, and he didn't even tell us at all. I'm still mad at you for that, by the way," his sister said.
Ike appeared from out of the living room. He was out of his smock and in more casual clothes of ripped jeans, his camouflage shirt and orange sneakers. He smoothed the wrinkles out of his shirt, and smiled at Soren.
"Come on in," Ike said. "Don't mind her, she's just being a busybody."
"Am not," she said. She stuck her tongue out at him.
"I suppose this is your revenge," Soren said in an undertone.
"Revenge?" Ike asked, one brow raised.
"I introduce you to my crazy family, and you do likewise," Soren said.
"Actually I think that's called dating," Ike said.
"Well, either way the first hardly counted," Soren said.
"I think it counted. I wouldn't have gone with you if I didn't like you," Ike said.
While he had been in his casts, Soren had wondered what counted among the moments. But Ike had answered the question succinctly before he even raised it. Every single one.
Ike led them to the living room. The tv had on a basketball game that Ike muted. Soren studied the room with his hand folded behind his back, gazing extra long at at pastoral paintings of flowers done in watercolor. He assumed a family member had done them. Despite their brightness, they seemed to cast a solemn, even nostalgic pallor over the house.
"My mother did those," Ike said. "I think she'd have liked you....both of them would, really."
"My father would probably like you. He always did like well-muscled men," Soren said absently. "Then again, he hated heroes and protestors, so I'm not sure your physique would cancel out what he would consider 'your failings'."
"I don't think we'd get along," Ike said with a wry smile.
"No one much did," Soren said.
The topic shifted as a they settled on other things. A picture on the mantle caught Soren's eye, and Ike took it down.
"This is Oscar," he said. He pointed to the green-haired man he had seen tend to the rosebushes earlier.
"He's the oldest of the brothers. Second oldest is Boyd," he said. He pointed to a green-haired boy
"And that's Rolf, the youngest."
Soren recognized the boy who had opened the door for him.
Ike went through the names, one by one. Rhys was the fragile man in a cleric's cossack; Titania the tall redhead who had carried the things inside; Shinon the drunken man, and Gatrie his companion. He'd already met Mist, and said as much before Ike could introduce her.
"Are they...cousins?" Soren asked. "Uncles and aunts? Otherwise related?"
"No, they're not blood related. Only Mist is. But they're still family," Ike said.
"I see," Soren said.
It seemed the late Greil had a habit of collecting strays.
"You're going to get a lot of questions. Shinon is prickly, so it's best to just ignore him, especially if he's drunk, which he is most of the time. The rest should be okay, though," Ike said.
"Last time, I did the coaching," Soren noted.
"This isn't really coaching it's just...okay, it's sort of coaching," Ike said.
Soren looked up as they were called in. Most of the faces that greeted him were curious, open and kind, save for Shinon who looked hostile and about to pass out on the table.
"You'll be paying me back for this next week for the celebratory ball my mother is hosting," Soren muttered.
"I'll be looking forward to it," Ike said.
Soren snorted. "You hate balls."
"But you'll be there, so it'll be tolerable at the very least," Ike said.
The table was set out for guests. A leaf had even been added, and yet it was still quite a snug fit. Soren was seated beside Ike, and his arm kept brushing Soren's. It was quite a distraction, which set a strange light feeling inside him.
Every time Soren would will himself not to look to Ike, but each time would fail. Rolf giggled at this, and Mist joined in. Soren focused dourly on his plate.
Ike remained oblivious as ever in regards to the amusement of the rest of the table.
Rhys said some sort of grace, wherein hand holding was involved. Soren closed his eyes. He had never been religious in the least, but could at the very least be civil to Rhys's beliefs. He was more focused on the feel of Ike's hand in his, rough and warm with the thumb stroking his inner palm.
After the prayer they held hands for ten whole seconds longer than necessary. They might've even held longer had Rolf not giggled again and Mist leveled a knowing look at them.
Soren cleared his throat and rearranged his napkin and fork until it was perfectly aligned. Ike continued to not get the awkwardness of the situation–he had a genuine talent for this, Soren thought wrly.
"So how did you two meet?" Mist asked.
Ike and Soren both exchanged a glance. Mist knew about Ike's employment history and knew that being a waiter wasn't something he'd done a lot of.
"We...." Soren began, searching for the words to explain this away.
"...met at a wedding," Ike finished for him.
They shared a smile, a beginning. One of the first of many in-jokes to start between them.
Everyone at the table seemed satisfied at this answer, except Shinon who simply seemed inebriated and sullen. It seemed such a warm, comforting place by comparison to the Keep. Ike's hand brushed his under the table–an accident, or a secret between them? He wondered then, if all the earlier bumps and touches had been intentional, as well. Soren turned to him, questioning, but Ike didn't say anything, didn't reveal if it meant it or if it was a nice happenstance. He just smiled. The warm feeling welled up in Soren again.
There were so many possibilities ready to unfold. It made him anxious because the world was filled with uncaring, cruel people. To say nothing of the uncaring, cruel tyrant who had raised him and used him as a pawn, wrecked his mother's mental health for the sake of some amusement.
One day he would tell Ike. One day....
But if anyone was worth trying to trust, Ike was the one. He knew that much for sure.
