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War was always chaos. A blinding noise. Shouts and clashes of metal. There was blood in the wind and Soren swore he could taste copper as he twisted gales into knives.
Taking lives was never particularly difficult for him. More a momentary twinge on his morals. Now? Now, he barely felt anything at all. He saw Daein for what it was; an aggressor, the enemy. They would kill him – kill Ike – if his magic wasn't sharp enough. If he wasn't fast enough.
So, he killed with a practiced efficiency and he didn't care if the lack of feeling made him a monster. If it meant that the world would be even a little safer for Ike, so be it.
He threw a spell at an armour knight and watched as the pile of metal stumbled off the bridge and into the stream. If he wasn't dead already he'd soon die to the water. Ike turned to the sound of the splash and soon spotted the knight being swept along its currents.
"You okay?" Ike asked as he swung at an archer who stepped a little too close. Ike never seemed to kill people with the same ease Soren did. Soren would rather things be kept that way.
Soren drove his knife through the back of the archer's skull. "Of course," he said. Ike nodded and they turned away from each other. The fight went on. Arrows and magic and blades soared through the air yet Soren was so accustomed to the chaos that his ears soon became deaf to anything except his woven gales.
The forces they were against were weak. Unprepared. They fell like animals to a butcher's blade.
It was an easy fight.
Then he saw. The soldier. The sword. Ike's unguarded back.
The incantation was on his tongue but he knew the moment he started he'd be unable to finish. He had noticed too late. The sword would fall and Ike would follow.
He didn't make a choice. He only ran, mind blank to everything except Ike and his warm presence and when he was close he leaped. He landed. The sword finally struck but it didn't meet its target.
Soren grunted as the sword cut through him instead. In one end and out the other. Blood splashed his face. He could feel the thrum of his heart, desperate and fast.
For a moment he could only hang there suspended on the blade, numb to both thought and feeling.
Then the pain came. He let out a voiceless cry as his knees collapsed beneath him.
By the time he reached the ground he was in darkness. Unconscious and blind. Thoughtless and deaf. Yet, in his final drops of consciousness, he felt secure knowing that Ike was safe, Ike was fine, Ike was alive.
Staves were impressive magical creations but they weren't without their limits. They could heal even the most deadly wounds and stop the blood flow but they couldn't restore any blood lost nor could they sap away the tenderness that remained where the wound had been. Most of the time, they couldn't even stop scarring.
When Soren first woke up, the pain was paralysing. Though the wound was gone, his body remembered that he'd just been cut through and sent phantom pain splaying across his torso. He groaned, too weak to even attempt to move. The pain thrummed to the beat of his heart.
"Soren?" a voice asked. Ike sat beside his bed, bleary eyed and likely having just woken from sleep.
Ike had slept at his bedside.
Soren mind would have lingered on it more were he not in so much pain.
"Don't move so much," Ike said. Soren scrunched his eyes and took a few breaths in an attempt to calm the pain before he could make it worse.
After a moment or two, he was able to settle. He sighed. "I'm alright."
"You don't look it," Ike said. He reached across to the bedside table and produced a vulnerary, twisting off the cap. "Drink this. It should help."
Soren gingerly reached across to take the bottle. His hands shook with exhaustion and pain. It was difficult to get a firm grip on the bottle. He mentally chided himself for appearing so pathetic and weak. Ike didn't seem to judge him for it but Soren judged himself all the same.
As Soren lifted the bottle to drink, Ike wrapped a gentle hand around his to ease the process. The vulnerary felt cold in his stomach and the heat of the pain soon dimmed to a dull ache.
Ike took the empty bottle away from him. "Feel better?"
"A little," Soren admitted.
"Good," Ike nodded. "I was worried for a while there."
"Oh?"
"'Oh?' You don't remember?"
"I do," Soren said, "or at least I remember enough to put the pieces together."
"Right," Ike scratched his neck. He looked unsure, eyes fixed to Soren's exposed hand above the blanket. Soren watched him, silently taking note of his hesitation and subsequently noting how odd it was for Ike to not only plan out what he was going to say but to be so unsure in his words. "About that… I wanted to talk to you about what you did."
"Okay?" Soren frowned.
"Listen, I am very grateful. You really saved me. If you hadn't been there, I could have been killed," Ike's gaze suddenly turned harsh. "But Soren, even though I'm grateful, I'm also a little mad at you."
Soren attempted to sit up but the pain forced him to still. He felt faintly lost and he started to wonder if he'd forgotten more than he'd originally thought. Ike looked up to meet his eye. "You could have died. Do you understand? It's perhaps the stupidest thing I've ever seen you do! I thought I'd gotten you killed! When we were bringing you back to camp, nobody knew if you were going to make it or not. If Mist wasn't so close when you were injured, then…"
Ike ran both hands across his face. "Please, I forbid you from doing anything like this again. I'm thankful, yes, but if I died that was my own mistake. You shouldn't have to take the fall for me."
"Ike," Soren said slowly, taken aback by his friend's sudden rush of emotion and even more surprised that the rush of emotion was because of him. "I'm fine. You don't need to concern yourself over me."
"You can barely move!" Ike stated, voice raised only slightly. "You were looking death in the face yesterday. How can I not be concerned over you?"
Soren frowned. "Even like this, I can draw up strategies and manage our expenses. My work beyond the battlefield shouldn't be too greatly affected. Your concern is unnecessary."
Ike's eyes widened. "If you think my concern right now is the work you provide then you are mistaken. I'm worried about you. I'm worried about you doing something like this again. Please. I can't lose someone else because I wasn't strong enough."
It was rare that Ike pleaded. He'd only seen it once before, when he'd begged his father not to die. His pleas had been ignored then and the thought of defying him was truly an uncomfortable one. Yet, while it was not in Ike's nature to be happy with his potentially suicidal actions, it was not in Soren's to risk Ike dying when there was something he could do to prevent it.
They both preferred honest truths to pretty lies. So, Soren said, "Ike, in your position, there is something you must understand. You are the commander of this army. Your life matters more than mine ever will. I'm sorry but I would do the same again tomorrow if need be."
It wasn't the whole truth - far from it - but the ultimate point was the same.
Ike stare was severe, hurt and angry and desperate.
It wasn't a look he'd expected to receive. He'd expected Ike to sigh or frown but to accept the answer. He'd expected him to accept that Soren's life was more his property than it had ever been Soren's own.
Ike did none of those things. He just looked horrified.
When Ike eventually spoke, his voice was so uncharacteristically low and grave it made Soren still. "Don't ever say that my life matters more than yours again. Don't… it doesn't!" He seemed at a loss for words. Soren watched in faint shock.
Several moments passed. Ike seemed to be waiting; for him to take back his words or to say something else. He does neither.
Ike suddenly looked like he'd rather be anywhere else than in his presence. "Look, I need to go. Try to get some rest. We'll talk about this tomorrow, alright?"
"Alright," Soren said, the gravity of the situation truly settling on him. Of all the things about him he thought would repulse Ike… His cold nature, his hatred for the sub humans, his Branded nature… Yet this was somehow the thing which repulsed Ike the most.
Ike turned and left with no small amount of haste.
Soren's body suddenly hurt far more than it did before.
He was forced to remain in bed for the remainder of the week. Mist informed him that until the army is set to march again, he was forbidden to focus his efforts on anything except recovery. Ike's orders, apparently.
Which ultimately meant long hours staring hard at the tent roof. Ike and their disagreement was forever on his mind.
He wasn't the only one confided to bed. Ranulf had been badly singed in their last fight if the state of his fur was any indication, not that it had effected his mood. His voice filled the silence for hours without cease. Although Ranulf mostly directed his words to the healers, Soren suddenly wished he had died in that last battle.
At some point amidst the hours of inane chatter, Ranulf turned to talk to him instead. "Ike was in quite the panic," he said. Soren didn't know why the cat suddenly wanted to talk about his injury considering he'd done nothing but ignore the beast since he'd arrived. "He was like a young laguz without its parents for the first time. It would have been sweet were the circumstances different. We genuinely thought you were a goner."
"So I've been informed," Soren said.
"I'm aware you don't like me very much but I'm glad you're alright, if that counts for anything. I just thought you should know."
Soren kept his silence.
During his five days of bedrest, Ike visited daily but never for more than minutes at a time. Their conversations were as inane as Ranulf's conversations with the healers, with nothing more than a "How are you doing?" and the like. Soren knew he couldn't be the only one who hated the monotony of it.
When he was finally permitted to leave the medical tent and return to active duty, it was a welcome relief.
Or it should have been, but Ike had other ideas it seemed.
"I'm sorry?" Soren said, more than a little irritated by all this by this point.
"You're not fighting today," Ike repeated as he crossed his arms.
"Why not?" He asked. Ike seemed ready to have a prolonged debate over this if his pose was any indication.
"You're still injured and we can make do. I've asked Calil to fill in."
Soren snorted but there was little humour in it. He was being treated like a child, or a doll who might break if it was looked at a little too strongly. It was ridiculous. "Ike, I'm fine. I've done nothing but recover for the past week. I'm more than capable of fighting."
"It was only days ago that you were looking death in the face," Ike said plainly. "Besides, before I can ensure you won't get yourself stabbed in my honour again, I think it's better to play things safe."
It was an unexpected blow. Their… disagreement had gone unmentioned since it happened but it had hung over them ever since, despite how neither of them had opted to venture into it. Why Ike was bringing it up again now was beyond him.
Besides, Soren truly didn't know why he cared so much. He was nothing – a filthy blooded Branded. The only worth he had was in his ability to help Ike. Why did that ability suddenly disgust Ike to the point where he would rather turn Soren away rather than allow him to provide the only thing he was capable of giving.
A moment passed, heavy and cold. Then Ike sighed.
"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. Still, I really do think it's best for you to rest some more. We can manage without you for a little while longer," Ike said.
"This is really not necessary," Soren argued.
"Maybe not, but I'd rather you not get hurt again. Especially not in the way you were."
"I'm more than capable of keeping myself alive," Soren said and he wondered if Ike suddenly felt he was incapable of his job.
"I know you are," Ike brushed a hand through his hair. "Look, we'll talk about this later. I need to go prepare. Go and rest in your tent."
Soren sighed, "I really don't think—"
"Soren, I don't want to order you around but if you're going to continue to argue about this then I can make that an order."
He lowered his head. "Very well, Ike. I'll take my leave," he muttered. The words tasted like poison.
Soren turned and left, hands clenched at his sides. He could feel Ike's gaze burning holes into his back.
The battle was a success, Soren heard.
It wouldn't be long now before they would reach Melior and then the fight would truly begin once again. Preparations to take on the Mad King were finally underway. That fight would be the most important one they'd faced in the entirety of the war.
Yet, Soren could not concentrate. Despite Ike's orders to remain in his tent and rest, he had taken it upon himself to start drawing up a strategy for the capital. It was unexpectedly difficult. Ike played on his mind constantly, incessantly, pestering him like a demon. He cursed himself for being so easily distracted.
They'd never had a disagreement last this long before. Even when Soren had cursed the sub-humans and cursed Elincia and had opted to leave the Daein citizens to starve rather than give up rations; Ike had seemed less upset and less angry than Soren taking a potentially mortal blow for him.
It was truly beyond what Soren could understand.
There was a knock on the tent post. Soren, irritated with his lack of progress and his plagued mind, answered with a blunt, "What?"
"It's me," there was a shuffling of canvas. "Can we talk?"
Soren tightened his hand around his pen, heart in his mouth. "Of course, Ike."
Ike looked tired. His eye was twitching and he was practically dragging his sword across the ground. Sweat stains were plastered across his headband. It must have been a difficult fight.
Soren nodded towards the chest by his bed roll. Ike dragged himself over and sat on it.
"Okay," Ike said, like he was bracing himself for something. "These last few days I've been trying to come up with a way to… talk about this, I guess. I couldn't really think of the words for a while but I think I have my feelings in line now.”
“Alright,” Soren said, allowing him to continue.
"When we were talking before, you said that your life mattered less than mine. I’ve known for a while that you think little of yourself. I don’t know if it’s because your Branded or because of your past but until you took that blow for me, I don’t think I quite realised how little you deem yourself to be worth.
Soren watched Ike, slightly wide-eyed. He looked genuinely torn up. Soren waited.
“After we brought you back and you came out of critical condition, Mist told me that she saw you run to help me. She said you didn’t even seem to hesitate. You took the blow for me, knowing that it could kill you, and you didn’t even have to think. That scared me. I kept thinking that if I let you on the battlefield, you’d do something like that again and you wouldn’t be so lucky to survive a second time. I can’t stand the thought of you dying because I was too blind to watch my own back and I can’t stomach you thinking so little of yourself that you’d give up your own life so easily."
Soren let the words settle in his mind, mindful of their weight. He swallowed. "Ike, you really shouldn't concern yourself over me to this degree."
"Why not?" Ike asked. "Why shouldn't I concern myself over you? You’re my friend. Caring about you is not a switch I can just turn off.”
Soren didn't know how to reply. Ike was truly the kindest person in his life, capable of caring for him despite how wretched he was inside and out. Even though Soren didn't want to believe he cared, he did. Even though it made no sense to Soren, Ike seemed to care about him regardless of his expectations.
Soren sighed. "Ike, in that same vein… caring about you is not something I can just ignore. You are… important to me. If I see you in danger I can't just allow you to be harmed. It's not something I can 'just turn off’ either."
Ike hummed. "I understand what you mean but I'd still rather you didn't put yourself in harm's way so easily. I just want you to understand that your death would not be something everyone would just be able to move past. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d died the other day but the fear… that alone was awful. I hope to never know what my life would be like without you in it. Please just bare that in mind.”
Soren thumbed the skirts of his robes. Only Ike could say something so sincere. He thought about Ike's words. He tried to navigate his swirling feelings.
Then, he remembered an incident from months ago.
"You have taken a strike for me before," Soren said.
"Huh?" Ike looked surprised. "When?"
"Back in Gallia. When Mordecai wanted to attack me. You took a blow for me," Soren remembered the incident with both fondness and disgust. Ike had gotten harmed because of him. Ike had allowed himself to be injured so he would remain safe.
It was a memory he both wanted and really didn't want to linger on.
"Hmm," Ike thought about it for a moment. "I guess I did. That was a bit different though. He only scratched me. Not like being stabbed."
"How did you know he would only scratch you?" Soren asked. "If he'd gone for the throat, you’d have died.”
"Well, I didn't really think about it. I just saw you were in danger and…" Ike suddenly seemed to realise what he'd said. "Oh. Right."
Silence passed for a moment as Ike reorganised his thoughts. Soren gave him time.
"So basically, we are both as bad as each other," Ike concluded.
"Yes,” Soren said. “That appears to be so.”
"This is really not how I expected this conversation to end."
"Neither did I, admittedly."
"Dang it," Ike huffed. "I guess I don't really have a leg to stand on anymore, huh?"
Soren waited for a few seconds, organising his own thoughts. Eventually, he said, "Even if you hadn't protected me in the past, my stance would not have changed," he admitted. "I'm afraid this is one thing you will not move me on. You have accepted me for more things than anyone else would. When I told you I was Branded, you didn't cast me aside. I am eternally indebted to you for more reasons than you know. I’d give my life for yours tomorrow were the need to arise. That's just how it is."
Soren could still feel the tree's roots beneath him. Could still see Ike, stick in hand, barely older than a toddler. He owed Ike everything. It didn't matter that he couldn't remember the past. Ike was the one warmth in his life. Soren would give everything – he'd abandon the war to its fate, leave the world to rot – if it meant Ike would live.
What Soren truly didn’t understand was why Ike was willing to risk things for his sake. Soren cared for Ike for without him, he was nothing. Without Soren, Ike would probably be much the same. Yet, still he cared. It was intimidating to accept. Ike didn't have some past memory to drive his care. He just cared regardless.
Soren felt oddly warm.
He wondered if this was love.
"How about this then?" Ike finally said. "We both watch our backs a little more and we both keep a closer eye on each other. If neither of us get into a dangerous situation, then we won't have to worry about either of us jumping in front of a blade again. How about that?"
Part of Soren wanted to say that his plan would likely be impossible in the chaos that was battle. They couldn't keep a constant eye on each other. They couldn't constantly be aware of their own surroundings. It was simply impossible of beorc to be so aware and alert for long periods of time.
Something told him Ike already knew that though. Still, he was forever genuine, to the point it made Soren smile.
So, rather than voicing his qualms, he simply said, "That sounds like a fine plan, Ike."