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Poetry and Swords

Summary:

After the Battle at the Storm Spire has come to an end and the calm has set Soren is dealing with the mental repercussions of leaving his emotionally abusive father and Claudia. Was it the right choice to leave her or should he have tried to convince her more? The mental battle is starting to manifest in his sword fighting, and Rayla is starting to notice, so she decides to help him out by having him talk about his big feelings.

Warning: Soren experiences Anxiety and symptoms of PTSD, none of it is super graphic.

Notes:

Hi! Thanks for trying it, just a Warning: Soren experiences Anxiety and symptoms of PTSD, none of it is super graphic.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

There is one thing I want

A smile, a nod. Something

To show you love me

 

As much as you love

Her. And I love her too but

I can’t be her, dad.

 

Soren had always been good at fighting. You could ask anyone, and no one would say otherwise, he’d not been deemed the youngest Crownguard in history for no reason. Swords and fights came easy to him, you could say he had an arcana...whatsitdo for it.

 

In fact, one of the earliest gifts, that he could remember receiving was from his mother, a little stuffed dragon. His father had used dark magic to bewitch the dragon so it could wobble a little and blow smoke occasionally. His mother had frowned upon the enchantment but Claudia, who could barely walk was just as taken with the magic as Soren was with the prospect of rescuing his baby sister from the big bad dragon who’d taken her captive.

 

He couldn’t save Claudia now, though. What held her captive was far worse and more terrifying than any big scary dragon he’d met in Xadia. The army he’d need to barrel down the forces that held her prisoner wasn’t something he would be able to rally. His limitations, however, couldn’t make him forget the look in Claudia’s eyes as he left that night. The night their dad became unrecognizable. Confusion, shock and betrayal flared brighter in her than in the lava-filled veins of the monsters their dad had created. “Don’t make me choose,” she cried, holding onto his arm, begging him to stay with her. And as much as he had wanted to choose her, he couldn’t.

 

His dad was a monster, he was a villain and if Claudia couldn’t see that then that wasn’t his fault, he had wanted to save her, he had tried to. Or that’s what he told himself every second, every moment after the battle came to an end. After the Queen of dragons rose from her slumber and the wounded were cared for. After the calm began to set and his heart wasn’t racing, sweat dripping with anxiety that their dad would show up and try to blow everything up again with the stolen Sunfire staff or his creepy little bug pal that wasn’t so little anymore and a lot more creepy.

 

After everything, Soren let himself think about the choices he’d made, and Soren didn’t think much, it wasn’t his style, he was more impulsive, the first thought that came, he would act on it. But Claudia was different, how could he not think about his sister. She’d thought about him, she’d chosen him when their mother returned to Del Bar. Claudia was the only constant in his life, there for him whenever his father hadn’t been.

 

Viren stirred up different emotions in Soren. Soren couldn’t deny that all the pain and sorrow within him stemmed from his father’s neglect and emotional abuse. Dads weren’t supposed to be like that. King Harrow clearly loved Callum and they weren’t even related, so why couldn’t his dad? Was there ever a time when he even loved Soren? The question had begun to plague the soldier’s mind recently; even during the middle of sparring practices with Marcos or even Rayla who he definitely had to be quick on his feet with and couldn’t afford any distractions. The disgust and hate that clouded his dad’s face when he claimed that it didn’t matter if Soren died or not as long as they had Azymondias, and the sudden shift when he realized what he’d just exclaimed had begun to haunt Soren after the battle came to an end.

 

On days like today, where the Storm Spire stood tall above the clouds surrounded by a dark mist when the only threat was the lack of enough sunlight on its spiral staircase, a melancholic wind drifted around him with every slash of his sword. With every breath, a sense of forlorn settled in his gut. Ignoring the heaviness inside him, Soren parried his opponent, Rayla. The Moonshadow elf continued to come at him with her twin blades, with her training in assassination, Soren had to admit she was far airier and lighter than he was, even without the armour. He grunted as he defended every attack, twisting and turning as she jumped around him, seeming unfazed by the pathetic fallacy of the darkening atmosphere that overtook him with every step. “Okay, okay enough,” he side-stepped her and fell to the ground. His sword fell with a clank beside him. He drew his knees to his chest and took a deep breath. “How can you jump like that?”

 

Rayla set herself down beside him and chuckled. “Moonshadow assassin-y stuff. We also don’t see the point in all that heavy armour.” She poked his shoulder pads, then pointed to her bare armpit, “Not a scratch.”

 

“We could have a jumping match. I’d win by a long—” Soren was on his feet in seconds, squatting, “Hah, hah.”

 

“I don’t think so.” Rayla rolled her violet eyes and then looked away, her brows knitted together. “And definitely not with the state you're in now.”

 

The Crownguard halted mid squat and looked at her. Her shoulders were slumped, and she stared at a bug crawling through the dirt. It was long, a caterpillar probably. Eerily looking like his father’s familiar. The dread in his stomach flared through him again and he took a step back. His heart sped up and sweat pooled at sides of his hairline. Small shaky breaths escaped him, and he clenched his fist willing himself to look away. But he couldn't, not until the creature was out of sight, lost in the tufts of grass at the base of the Spire. It’s not dad’s. Dad’s was bigger. Dad is gone. Dad is gone. Dad is gone. He repeated the words to himself over and over. He took a seat behind Rayla who watched him, her eyes soft and knowing. He ran a hand through his blond hair and let out a deep sigh. “He’s gone. He can't hurt us, he can’t.” For a few minutes, Soren let himself breath, his head in his hands, just breathing and repeating the mantra. Rayla let him be.

 

Then, “I know what it’s like,” Rayla’s voice was small and far away. While she spoke, she wasn’t here, lost in a distant memory. Soren didn’t say anything, unsure of how to respond, “You feel betrayed, by Viren, right? That’s why you’re so distracted. You weren’t like this during the battle,” he couldn’t deny she was right. Soren picked up the fallen sword and held it loosely in his hand. The sun glinted off the golden hilt making it seem like it shimmered. The silver of the body shined almost like sun fire. But it felt wrong. He squeezed the hilt, it didn’t fit. He couldn’t wrap his fingers around it like he used to. Something he was noticing just now. It had been fine on the day of the battle. Had his fingers gotten fatter? No, he’d kept up with his morning workouts and there was a disheartening lack of butter available on the Storm Spire.

 

“Soren.” He shook his head and looked at her. Her face had changed, one hand rubbed the back of her neck, and her eyes shifted to look at the ground, and she sighed again. She looked uncomfortable, “Look, I pretty much hated you until the day of the battle, and if I’m being honest, I didn’t really trust you the day of either. I was sure you would rat us out to your dad in some elaborate stupid plan, but you didn’t. Here you are and we really couldn’t have saved Zym or Queen Zubeia without your help.” She took her blades out and examined them, bouncing the few rays of sunlight that peeked through the grey storm clouds of the silver edges of the blades, as though she were trying to distract herself from the conversation she’s started. “Big feelings aren’t my thing, that’s more Callum but I swear I’ll kill you—accidentally if you don’t start paying attention and deal with whatever is bothering you.” She tapped her blade against his sword, all too easily deflecting the sword from the random lines he’d doodled on the ground as she had been speaking.

 

The Crownguard took a deep breath and let his thoughts form the closest thing they could to a coherent sentence, “I know--I know I did the right thing. But Claudia... she trusted dad, and she loved him like I did. But dad never looked at me like he looked at her and for a while, I thought that he loved her. But now, now I’m not so sure. I mean I’m sure he did at some point I mean he’s our dad, that’s his job. But now, I think he was just using her—”

 

“He was,” Rayla cut him off and he narrowed his eyebrows at her, “Sorry, sorry. Your big feelings time continue.” she gave him a sheepish look and nodded at him to continue.

 

“Right. And I guess—maybe I should’ve dragged her along,” he twisted the sword in his grip. The sword that now felt too heavy and foreign. He’d practically been born with a sword in his hand like Claudia had, a spellbook, but now it was as though he’d never wielded a weapon before. “If I was into Dark Magic, would dad have chosen me too. And would I have chosen to save Zym or would I have turned into the monster that dad did.”

 

Rayla placed a four-fingered arm on his shoulder and patted, this elf really wasn’t the best at comforting and Soren didn’t know if he should go in for a hug or not. The big feelings conversation probably meant they were friends now, but he barely knew her. Not to mention he wasn’t sure how Callum would react to Soren, a charming and devastatingly handsome young man being chest to chest with his girlfriend. Let’s not try anything. The elf wasn’t his type anyway. So instead, he looked over at her and gave her a small smile in thanks.

 

“You chose to be a hero, Soren. Viren wanted to start a war, he’s manipulative and your sister didn’t see that. But that’s not on you. She’s not your responsibility, you made your choice and she made hers. I know it’s hard to do but you need to separate yourself from her. Stand bravely by your choice ya big ol’ stupid lump.” the elf grinned again. Again, she was right. She’d said everything Soren already believed but to hear it from someone else solidified it like he wasn’t crazy or wrong for not wanting to blame himself for Claudia’s path. Soren had decided that Viren, not dad, Viren was evil and he had shown that to Claudia as well. Maybe it was because she’d been wrapped in dark magic since childhood or because she craved validation, or both, either way, Claudia couldn’t see that. She couldn’t see that the monsters Viren had created were just a reflection of what he was internally, and what she was becoming.

 

Soren opened his mouth to say something but before he could start, he heard footsteps. Light, but clumsy. Callum.

 

“Hey, Rayla are you almost done?” Callum’s face seemed to brighten as he stared at his beloved. If you stared close enough you would see the heart eyes that seemed to get bigger and bigger on Callum’s face. And the stupid goofy smile, it seemed strange at times to see Callum lovingly stare at someone that wasn’t Claudia. Almost like Callum had erased Claudia and moved on completely. Which he had obviously, or his relationship with the Moonshadow elf would just be weird. But still, it seemed like everyone, but Soren had forgotten his sister.

 

“Oh Soren, hi.” Callum smiled at him, and Soren grinned back. Momentarily, wanting to forget his lingering regret in a way that teasing the step prince, no, the prince, allowed him to do so.

 

“Prince Callum, did you come here to practice some,” he twirled the sword in his hand and swiftly brought it millimetres from the Prince’s chest, taking the prince by surprise, who jumped back eyes wide, his hand in the air already forming some drawing in the sky, “sword magic.”

 

“Soren!” Rayla also jumped up ready to protect her human lover. Her hands clutching the twin blades in a defence.

 

“Sorry, sorry.” He moved the sword away back into its sheath on his hip. “Your girlfriend was helping me get a few things off my chest. She could work on her wording, but I appreciate the concern.”

 

“You’re one to talking about wording.” Rayla elbowed him, a small smile on her lips.

 

“Really? Rayla, that’s amazing,” Callum turned to face her and he looked so dopey, Soren thought he looked punchable. Man, was love always like this or was Callum an idiot. Or both.

 

“This is weird” Soren gagged, and Callum shut up immediately. Rayla took his hand and stared back at him, ignoring Soren completely. The Crownguard watched them for a few seconds before his face began to redden and he eventually turned away. There was something third wheely about seeing a scene he wasn’t a part of. “I’m gonna go now.” he pushed himself off the ground, dusting off his butt.

 

“Wait, Soren,” Rayla put a hand on his arm, “take a break from the sword. You have a lot of feelings and the sword fighting isn’t helping you through it right now. Your fighting isn’t getting better than what it was on the battlefield.” Man, was she always right? He could feel himself getting weaker. Not terribly so, but enough that General Amaya or even Marcos would be able to see a difference.

 

“Is there something you like beside sword fighting?” Callum asked, “You don’t have to be good at it, just something you enjoy.”

 

Soren thought for a second, and then said the first thing that came to mind, “Poetry!” He exclaimed. The last time he tried wasn’t an experience that he wished to relive ever, but for a while, the words and sentences he made helped him get through the pain or lack of pain he felt. He had enjoyed making up haikus and using his mind even if Claudia didn’t like his masterpieces. Callum and Rayla stared at him with the same expression that Claudia had that day. Skepticism and disbelief and a hint of amusement that was present in these two, but absent in Claudia, which was understandable given the situation.

 

“Really?” Callum raised an eyebrow.

 

“You don’t strike me as the type for deep and carefully written words,” Rayla muttered before turning to Callum again. “Maybe human poetry isn’t as soulful as Elfish. Humans are so weird.”

 

Callum stifled a laugh and Soren glared at both of them, “You all have no faith in me. My words,” he brought a hand up to wipe a fake tear from his eyes, “will bring you to tears.”

 

“Right,” Rayla dragged the word. “I’ll definitely be in tears, from how wonderful your poems are or from how you’ve butchered human literature, we’ll have to find out.”

 

“As surprising as this is Soren, do it.” Callum’s face morphed from teasing to serious and Soren noticed that this almost fifteen-year-old was far wiser than he was. “If it helps, do it. You don’t have to show anyone but the feelings you have, sometimes it's best to remove them from your brain and heart by putting them on paper. That’s what I do with my art. It helps.”

 

Soren smiled a great wide smile that took over his cheeks. He took a step closer to the couple and engulfed both of them in a bear hug. Lifting them off the ground, he swung them in the air. “You guys are a great group. Thank you. I don’t say that a lot but thanks for trusting me, even after I tried to kill you all and steal your dragon, on multiple occasions.”

 

As a reply, he received ragged breaths and a muffled, “That’s enough, put us down.”’ And so, he did, still smiling. The two slumped to the ground for a second, regaining their breaths and then straightened their backs and nodded at him. “You’re a part of the group now, Soren. You chose the right side,” Rayla assured him.

 

And he knew he had. Viren was a monster and Claudia, though it felt like a stab wound to admit, was becoming just like him.

 

I chose to be good

At daybreak, the sun rose for

Me and fell for you

 

So do not blame me

You chose death and destruction

It’s your pain to feel

Notes:

Thanks for reading!

I've never tried to write prose concerning mental health issues and concerns so I thought I'd try it out and this is what I came up with up.

Let me know your thoughts, criticism, anything. Or we can cry about how Soren deserves a hug and some butter.