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Chapter Text

Pelleas stood just outside of the Tower of Guidance as the others began packing up their gear and rest within Mainal Cathedral. Almedha stood across from him in a stony street. “I'm sorry.”

Almedha looked at him with wide red eyes and eyebrows raised. “But that's,” she shook her head vehemently. “I don't believe you! Because, see, my dear, you have the mark! Wait. Don't you have a mark?”

Pelleas shook his head. “No, Mother. Lady Almehda, is that the reason you thought me to be your son?”

“I,” Almedha hesitated as she looked at Pelleas with her brows furrowed.

Pelleas grimaced. “And that is the reason why Izuka chose me out of all the children at that orphanage.”

“Stop! This is impossible! You are my son. I am your mother, and I say so!”

Pelleas looked at her with his dark purple eyes, nearly black. He'd had red eyes as a babe, like her, but they had changed to more closely resemble his father’s. “Lady Almedha, your only memories of your son were of him as a baby. You yourself said so. In other words, he already had a mark, even as a child.”

Almedha nodded eagerly. “Yes, that's so. What of it?”

“This mark,” he lifted the dark purple bangs from his forehead, she still was amazed at how much his hair had lightened to look like his father’s, revealing the dark red mark that was familiar to her, warped slightly from when he had been a baby. “My mark, here,” he sighed as he lowered his hand. “is called the "Spirits' Protection." When I was thirteen, I chose to make a pact with the spirits.”

Almedha’s eyes widened as her brows shot up. “What?!” She whispered. But Izuka had said- all those changes had been because of his aging. It was normal amongst beorc? Wasn't it?

“When I learned that you were one of the dragon clan, I began to doubt. And slowly my doubt turned to certainty. I'm sorry, Lady Almedha. I'm sorry that, though it was never my intent, I ended up deceiving you. I'm sorry, but I am not your son.”

Tears filled Almedha’s eyes. “P-Pelleas,” she stammered and then trailed off.

Pelleas closed his eyes. “But still,” he smiled gently. “I was happy. It was fleeting, but,” he looked up and searched her eyes. “I knew the feeling of a mother's love. You have my thanks.” He said as he bowed to her.

“I,” Almedha turned her face to the side and sniffed as tears fell down her face.

Pelleas bit his lip. He looked up at Almedha. “You,” he paused. He didn’t want to get her hopes up only to break them again. “Lady Almedha, I think it would be wise if you spoke with General Ike, Commander of the Greil Mercenaries.”

Almedha looked at him in confusion. “Why?” She asked softly.

“That child he-” Pelleas hesitated. “No, that’s all I should say.” He bowed to Almedha again. “Please take care, Lady Almedha, and thank you again for everything.”

---

“Ike!” Kurthnaga called out as he ran up to Ike, with Almedha following him.

The blue haired muscular beorc stopped, looking from his mercenary company who were packing up their tents, and looked towards Kurthnaga with bright blue eyes.

“Prince Kurth-, sorry, it’s King now isn’t? King Kurthnaga, what’s up?”

“My sister wanted to speak to you,” Kurthnaga said, lifting his right hand and raising it across his body towards Almedha.

Almedha stepped in front of Kurthnaga. “You are Ike, of the Greil Mercenaries?” She asked, staring at him intently.

Ike nodded. “And you're the dowager queen of Daein. I heard some of what you've gone through. I'm glad that you're safe.”

Almedha looked at Kurthnaga, who nodded. She closed her eyes, sighed, and nodded. “Indeed.”

Ike shifted on his feet, looking at her with a questioning glance. “In light of that,” he said and looked towards Kurthnaga, who shrugged. “Can I do anything for you?”

Almedha opened her eyes and shook her head. “I think not. I think I have seen enough.”

Ike nodded with a slight bow. “As you wish. Well then, Lady Almedha, King Kurthnaga. Take care of yourselves.”

Kurthnaga nodded. “Yes. And you as well. I know we shall meet again!”

Ike shot them one last curious glance and walked off towards his mercenary company, and an older red haired woman and a younger woman with light brown hair waved at him cheerfully. They ran up to Ike and hugged him tightly. He wrapped his arms around their backs before pulling away from them.

Kurthnaga looked over at Almedha. “Are you satisfied, my sister? You wished so strongly to meet with General Ike.”

Almedha frowned. “I only did so because Pelleas said,” she paused as she shuddered. “He said that it would be wise if I were to meet with him.”

“Did he say why?”

Almedha shook her head. “That child, he said. It was the last gift he could give me. He wouldn't say anything more.”

Kurthnaga’s brows furrowed. “A gift? By meeting General Ike?”

Almedha looked up at Kurthnaga and shook her head. “What about that beorc could possibly be,” she stopped as she saw a small figure in dark robes walk past her brusquely in the corner of her eye. Her heart pounded in her ears. “Wait,” she ran after the boy. “Ah! Wait! Wait, stop a moment!”

Kurthnaga followed her. “Sister!?” He called out.

The boy stopped and looked up at her with crimson red eyes, before looking around the area curiously, and seeing no one else, he looked up at her with shoulders set. “Yes? You needed something?”

Almedha looked at him, her hands trembling. She knew that face. That silken black hair. The crimson mark on his forehead where the spiraling edges curved slightly and tapered into fine points instead of forming thick straight lines. “You are,” she took a deep breath and held her hands firm. “What is your name?”

The boy’s right eye twitched and he raised an eyebrow as he looked from her to Kurthnaga. “Soren,” he said simply, settling his gaze back on her.

“I-I see,” Almedha stammered. “That,” she paused and took another deep breath. “That is a fine name.”

Soren’s other eyebrow raised. “Thank you?” he asked, now looking thoroughly bewildered.

Almedha smiled serenely at him. “You're welcome,” she said warmly and firmly.

Soren looked from her to Kurthnaga again, before looking back at her. “Is that all?” he asked.

Almedha cleared her throat as tears formed in her eyes. She nodded at him quickly. “Yes, yes. Pardon me. Calling out to you like that.” she bit her lip. “I was confused.”

Soren’s eyes were wide and he looked back over at Kurthnaga, who shrugged, just as bemused. “Don't let it trouble you. If you'll excuse me.” He turned on his heel promptly and walked after Ike.

“I don't believe it,” Almedha breathed as she watched him walk quickly. Ike reached a hand out behind Soren’s back and pulled him tight against his side for a second. The brown haired woman leaned forward to hug him, but Soren quickly escaped out of Ike’s grasp and side stepped her. The brown haired woman turned towards Soren and stamped her foot, as Ike laughed behind her. A small smile graced Soren’s face. The woman turned towards a green haired man and shouted something at him. He quickly raised up his hands and stepped backwards, shaking his head. Soren folded his arms over his chest and said something, his smile now slightly larger.

Kurthnaga walked next to Almedha. “That boy is the staff officer for the Greil Mercenaries. What made you call out to him like that?”

Almedha put her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes. “I.” she choked back a sob.

Kurthnaga looked at her in concern. “Sister?”

Almedha shuddered, turning her head away from Kurthnaga. “Because I have lost the power of my birthright, I thought,” she paused as her voice failed her. “Maybe I wouldn't be able to.” More tears fell down her face. “That I might not be able to recognize my own child. But when her own true son stands before her, no mother could fail to know.” She looked back towards Soren. A large man in blue armor had walked up behind Soren and Ike and clapped them firmly on the back. Soren stumbled forwards a little and whirled to glower up at the armored knight. He seemed to shout something, Ike laughed and put a hand on Soren’s shoulder, patting it firmly. Soren rolled his eyes and folded his arms. “Oh, my son, you've lived and grown strong.”

Kurthnaga looked from Almedha towards Soren. “You can't mean.” He watched as the group of them turned towards a tall, lean man with long red hair held in a high ponytail. Ike said something and everyone but the tall lean man laughed. “Soren is your son?”

Soren looked back over at the pair of dragon siblings briefly, his brows furrowed, and then looked back to his fellow mercenaries.

“Yes,” Almedha choked out. “He is.”

“Do you want to talk to him before he leaves?” Kurthnaga asked.

Almedha shook her head. “I can see, he’s suffered so much, but he’s a little warmer around them. I don’t want to cause him any more pain.”

“Sister,” Kurthnaga said and then sighed. “Very well. I’ll have you know he’s an astute young man. He will suspect something if we stay here much longer. If you don’t want to talk to him about it, we should go.”

“Do you know him well?” Almedha asked, looking over to Kurthnaga, tearing her gaze reluctantly from Soren.

“Not well, he’s very aloof. But we did get the chance to speak a little bit while we fought in the tower and defeated the goddess, and as I travelled with Ike's group to Sienne. I saw a little of the kind of person he is.”

“Oh, will you tell me what that was like, Kurth?”

“Yes, of course, sister.”

Almedha followed Kurthnaga away, getting one last lingering glance at Soren as she walked away. Soren turned and looked over at her, meeting her gaze. She quickly turned away and hurried off.

Chapter Text

Soren sat on a bench in an empty courtyard of Sienne. All the other royals and various high ranking nobles of Tellius were dining, discussing the treaties and agreements following the defeat of the Begnion senate.

He couldn't stand another minute having to play their political games, the agreements had already taken the better part of two months to finalize because they all just couldn't agree on the most logical course of action.

Soren sighed and leaned over on the bench, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. At least they were nearing the end, and the Greil Mercenaries could leave soon and not deal with the courts for a while.

"Excuse me," a polite voice called out to Soren.

Soren sat up and saw Kurthnaga standing there in front of him. His expression stiffened. Somehow he was still filled with dread at the idea of conversing with a dragon laguz, even after surviving a fight against the ancient black dragon king.

"Prince Kurthnaga," Soren said, his voice monotone and dispassionate, "Is there something you needed before you went back to Goldoa?" He thought he ought to stand, but decided against it.

Kurthnaga stood there, silent for a moment. "You." Kurthnaga glanced up briefly at Soren's mark. "You are what the beorc call a Branded."

"Would you have me killed or erased, as most laguz would want?" Soren asked pointedly. “Even though Ashera is dead and the laws put in place because of your father and his friends were all lies based in fear, am I still a sin?”

Kurthnaga shook his head. "No."

"Then what is it that you're hoping to achieve through this conversation?"

"I wanted to ask you, did you ever know your parents?"

Soren watched Kurthnaga for a moment, silently wondering where the conversation was headed. "I did not."

"Where did you grow up?"

"What does it matter to you?"

Kurthnaga was silent for a little while. "Pelleas is not my sister's son. He was introduced as such because his Spirit Charmer mark was similar to the Brand her son had had when he was born. Because she had lost her laguz abilities, she couldn't tell for sure, so she bought into the lie."

Soren was silent, staring at Kurthnaga with his brows furrowed. He had heard Kurthnaga call her sister when he ran into the pair of them a few days ago. The dowager queen of Daein who had asked Soren his name. Something about her had felt very sad. Pelleas had said his mark was very similar to Soren’s.

Soren felt cold suddenly, a hollow pit opening in stomach and a knot forming in his throat. Hazy and indistinct images floated to his mind unbidden. A feral black dragon with drool and blood sliding down from its jaw roaring and snapping at him. A woman with dark hair and brown skin crying as she kissed him on the forehead and held him tightly. A scowling broad shouldered man with dark purple blue hair laughing in his face as he threw him to the ground.

Kurthnaga continued, "Shortly after he was born, and Ashnard realized his son did not possess the powers of a black dragon laguz, Ashnard used my sister's son to lure my brother into a trap, and turned my brother into a Feral One. For sport, Ashnard would threaten to have my brother kill my nephew after that. My sister had the boy hidden far away by a servant, a maid. The maid was sent to a small beorc village within Gallia, where Ashnard would never look for his son. However, the maid returned a few years later on her own without my sister’s son, and said she had sold the boy to a sage to teach him magic. He would have been about four at the time. Ashnard had the maid executed and my mother was never able to track her son down after that. My sister never questioned anything, Pelleas could use magic, he had the mark on his forehead. However-"

"Stop," Soren said, his shoulders trembling as the puzzle pieces of his life fit together in ways he had wondered at and ways he could never have imagined before, but now, the finished picture was too ugly to bear to look at. Tears poured down his face without the ability to stop them.

"I apologize, Soren, I-"

"Just stop.” Soren tried to control his wild breathing. They were in far too public of a place for Kurthnaga to say anything else. Not that he wanted Kurthnaga to actually say the words. He looked down to his lap, and tears fell down onto his robes. He wiped the tears from his face with the back of his sleeve and looked back up at Kurthnaga, his expression stern. “If your nephew had survived this long, if you found him, it would be incredibly cruel."

"Cruel?" Kurthnaga asked as he looked down at Soren with brows furrowed and crimson eyes wide, eyes which perfectly matched Soren's own now that he thought about it.

Soren took a breath, steadying himself. Trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to, without saying anything too damning if any overheard. "He would have to reconcile being both the son of the Mad King and the grandson of a man who had condemned him to a life of suffering based on lies and fear." Soren gripped the fabric of his robes over his knees in his hands tightly, so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "And given the location where he was sent, he probably would have no love of Daein, nor of Ashnard nor of laguz nor even of beorc. You dragon laguz can sit there and say it was such a mistake to cause that suffering, all the while admiring your prior king for silently accepting the suffering he had a hand in causing as if it was something noble and praiseworthy, but you’ve never lived that life. You have no idea what it’s like to have lived every day for as long as you can remember knowing that everyone who meets you and knows what you are thinks you don’t have the right to exist. That you shouldn’t have been born at all."

Kurthnaga's eyes widened.

Soren continued, his shoulders shaking. "He would have walked through the world hated and shunned, unwanted and unloved. To even have survived past the age of ten he would have needed something in his life to contend with the senseless suffering that he had to go through, for what? Fear that laguz couldn’t accept a crossed child? The laguz in Hatari sorted it out. They’re not keen to lose their powers, but they never said it was a sin, or that a crossed child was an abomination, something to be denied existence or killed or covered up. What would you hope to achieve by finding him? Force him to be doted on by a woman who never cared enough to confirm the details of his childhood before accepting a false son? Force him to become king of a country he may not have any love of, a country that would not have any love of him? Force him into a public position as a Branded, after the last apostle was killed for being one?"

Kurthnaga looked at the ground, unable to meet Soren's gaze for a moment. But then Kurthnaga frowned and looked up at Soren. "Dragons live for an incredibly long time. I'll admit I know little of the parentless, but their lifespans extend far longer than any beorc. I'd understand if he were reluctant to join his family in Goldoa, and I wouldn't want to force him to rule Daein. However, there are few people on Tellius who can understand what it is like to live for as long as he likely will. If he were to ever desire it, he would be welcome in Goldoa. Now, or decades or centuries from now. As the new king of Goldoa, I will ensure it."

Soren was silent for a while. "How generous," Soren muttered eventually.

"Soren, I-"

Soren raised his hand and Kurthnaga fell silent. Soren was silent for a moment, looking at the ground. "Branded can tell each other apart as soon as they see each other. If I were to find a Branded who might be related to you, would his name be Pelleas as well?"

Kurthnaga was silent for longer still. "It is not customary for us to give our children lifelong names until they are five years old, and so my sister only had an infant name for him. Since Ashnard wanted to use him to free Yune, he called his son Destroyer. My nephew wouldn't have had a full name to go by until my sister found him in Gallia and took him back from the maid."

Soren hung his head and closed his eyes, his hands balled into fists on his knees.

Kurthnaga knelt down in front of Soren, putting a hand over Soren's. "I would hope that he has by now chosen a good name that suits him."

"How sad for him to have been sold to an old sage without a name, even laguz slaves in Begnion had that dignity," Soren remarked. He stood and walked away from Kurthnaga. "I must be going. I have a meeting with Ike."

Chapter Text

A young boy with raven hair, no more than a year and a half old, was held in his father's arm, pinned against the metal armor of his father's breastplate. His father's hand was holding the boy’s mouth shut so firmly that the pale skin of his jaw was bruising.

His father held him in the shadows of an open walkway in the middle of the night, looking out at the castle courtyard. His father had peachy skin and dark blue-purple hair slicked back against his skull.

A woman, the boy's mother, knelt in the courtyard. She had dusky skin and was wearing a long black dress. She had her hands folded together and her head bowed. Surrounding her were a dozen soldiers with weapons held at the ready.

"Almedha!" A man's voice called out as a tall man with long black hair ran over to the boy's mother. He wore white pants and a black tunic with a black wrap that covered his right leg.

"Rajaion!" Almedha called out. "Rajaion, why are you here? I-"

"Father wouldn't send help," Rajaion spat out as he stood between Almedha and the soldiers. "So I came."

"What?" She asked.

"He said." Rajaion grimaced. "He said it was best for you and the boy to disappear."

Tears fell down the woman's face. "What?" She asked.

"I don't know. He wouldn't listen to reason. We'll speak more once I get you out of here. Where's your son, Almedha?"

Almedha pointed directly at the boy in the shadows.

The boy's father laughed and walked forwards into the moonlight. "He's right here," the boy's father said.

"Let him go, Ashnard!" Rajaion commanded.

"No, I don't think I will," Ashnard said.

"Let him go, or I will make you," Rajaion threatened.

"Will you?" Ashnard asked, raising a knife towards the boy's throat. The boy writhed, trying to kick free, but stilled, frozen, as he felt the tip of the knife press against his skin. He looked towards his mother, tears falling down his face from his crimson red eyes.

"No! My son!" Almedha called out.

"The only way I'm letting him go is if you show me how strong you are," Ashnard sneered.

"That will be easy," Rajaion said, lunging towards Ashnard.

---

"Soren?" Ike's voice cut through the haze of Soren’s pounding heart.

Soren eventually realized that he was lying in a large bed covered in silk sheets, and not pressed against hard metal armor, with a gauntleted hand bruising his throat.

Soren turned and saw Ike in the shadows of the bed and looked up at Ike’s face. Ike’s brows were furrowed and his eyes were darting around, looking over Soren, despite being unable to focus on Soren’s features in the darkness. Ike’s hand was holding Soren’s arm firmly.

"Ike?" Soren questioned hazily, thinking back on the vivid images and the fear he had felt while he was asleep.

"Are you okay?" Ike asked, lowering himself to wrap an arm around Soren.

Soren rested his face against Ike’s chest. "Just a nightmare," Soren whispered.

"Wanna talk about it?" Ike asked.

Soren shook his head. "Not right now." He couldn't even tell if it was something his mind had conjured up based on what Kurthnaga had said, or if it was based on a past experience.

Ike held Soren tighter, and Soren relaxed as he breathed in Ike’s scent. Whatever it had been, Soren wasn't there now. Soren couldn't really be Ashnard’s son, could he?

But how else would Kurthnaga have known the details of Soren’s childhood? Details he had only ever told Ike? Details that Ike would never have whispered to another.

---

The boy watched as Rajaion shifted into the form of a large black dragon.

A horde of wild laguz rushed out from behind Ashnard and attacked Rajaion, their eyes focused on the dragon, but lacking the light of sentient thought. Rajaion paused for a moment, looking towards Ashnard.

"What have you done to them?!" Rajaion cried out.

Ashnard grinned. "Get through them and I'll tell you."

A few of the feral laguz ran towards the boy's mother.

Rajaion moved backwards to protect Almedha and tore through all of the laguz. The boy watched in horror as the laguz fell before the dragon. Ashnard laughed maniacally, so loudly that the boy winced from the pain in his ears.

---

Rajaion stood, breathing heavily, covered in sweat. "Let him go!" The broken bodies of a few dozen laguz surrounded him. He was only a few feet away from Ashnard.

Ashnard held the knife to the boy's throat again. "Yes, you have shown me your strength, haven't you?" He grinned widely. "Izuka."

A man wearing thick, dark robes with stringy dark blue hair walked past Ashnard. Izuka held a small flask out to Ashnard.

"No, Rajaion, you have to leave!" The boy's mother protested from behind Rajaion, slowly getting to her feet.

"I'm not leaving either of you behind! Whatever it takes, I will save you, and kill that beorc."

"Brother, please!"

"I have not come this far to fail now! I promised to save you and your son, so I will."

Several feral tigers ran out of doors. Rajaion reacted slowly, tired. A tiger leapt to strike him, and he caught the tiger’s front paws, digging his feet into the ground as he threw the tiger to the side.

"Brother tiger, I don't know what he's done to you, but I will end your suffering," Rajaion said, preparing to shift again.

"Scream," Izuka called out.

Another tiger ran up behind Rajaion and roared. The boy winced from the noise, and Rajaion faltered, stepping forwards, covering his ears, his hair falling in front of his face.

Ashnard walked forwards, and the tigers snarled and snapped at him, but did not attack. Ashnard released the boy and the boy dropped to the ground. The boy ran over to Almedha, who fell to her knees and held him. Ashnard grabbed Rajaion's face and poured the contents of the flask down his mouth.

"My son," Almedha whispered as she held him. She looked up towards Rajaion, tears falling down her face. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Rajaion howled and screamed, falling onto all fours.

The boy turned his head into Almedha’s chest. Almedha held him tightly to her.

There was the sound of footsteps. A large hand grabbed the boy's hair and yanked his head away from Almedha.

The boy cried out in pain as some hairs were yanked from his scalp.

"Watch," Ashnard said, twisting the boy's head back towards Rajaion.

Rajaion's body twisted and contorted. Rajaion looked up at the boy. "Let him go!" He commanded, half shouting, half roaring as his body shifted into the form of a black dragon, and then back again.

Over and over again for hours. Until Rajaion was in the form of a black dragon forever.

Ashnard laughed and dropped the boy. Almedha caught him.

---

Soren's eyes shot open and he laid still, otherwise frozen in the bed, breathing heavily.

There was the sound of weight shifting in the bed, and Ike’s arm landed heavily around Soren, pulling Soren until his back was pressed against Ike. Ike snored into Soren’s ear and Soren smiled to himself softly.

The last nightmare from a few nights ago had stayed with Soren with haunting clarity. Soren closed his eyes.

Soren remembered what the weakened Rajaion had looked like as he had died. It wasn't impossible that his mind was making up the scenario Kurthnaga had vaguely described.

But it felt so real.

Soren reached a hand up, closing his fingers around the back of Ike’s hand and squeezed tightly.

To be Ashnard’s son. To be the reason the dragon prince Rajaion had died. To be the reason why Ena and Nasir had stolen the medallion.

Soren let go of Ike’s hand. Soren reached his fingers upwards towards his own body, touching the tip of the long scar that trailed from his right collarbone to his left hip.

If Soren was Ashnard’s son, the last battle in the war would have been quite the reunion. Soren shuddered, hearing Ashnard’s mad cackling from that day in Melior.

---

The boy sat on the ground outside of a large stone building, snow covered the ground around him. He was sitting on the ground, tears falling from his eyes.

"Daddy! No!" He cried out.

There was a snarling sound above the boy. A black dragon with a wild look in its eyes loomed over him, a long line of blood-tinged drool spilling down from its open mouth. Behind the dragon was the body of a slightly built man, half eaten by the dragon.

The boy scrambled backwards into a hard and cold stone wall.

The dragon loomed closer, closing its mouth and sniffing him. The boy closed his eyes, sobbing and trying to push himself through the wall. The dragon roared in Soren’s face. The boy yelped, covering his ears with his hands and falling to his side, curling up as snow fell on top of him.

Over the ringing in his ears, Soren heard the dragon lumber off.

There was a mad cackling sound from a deep voiced man in the distance. "Not today, eh, Rajaion?"

---

As Ashnard flew around the castle of Melior, berserk and attacking everything that moved, Soren's eyes were transfixed on the wyvern mount.

An armored knight came towards him, Soren caught the movement in the corner of his eye, and he used his magic to tear through the armor and kill the knight. Blood pooled around the knight's broken form.

Ashnard shouted indistinctly in the sky nearby.

Soren looked up and his eyes widened as he saw Ashnard flying directly towards him. He felt like he saw blood dripping down from the wyvern's maw and his brain stumbled. He started to move to get out of Ashnard’s way, but the wyvern roared, the sound tore through the sky and rooted Soren to the spot.

An ancient terror gripped him. He had heard that sound every night as a child, waking, screaming from nightmares he could never remember, and even now, though the nightmares of nothingness were less frequent, he could never forget the roar that tore the air from his chest and set his nerves aflame.

"It's finally time to kill the useless runt!" Ashnard proclaimed, his voice straining and delirious with joy, bringing his sword down on Soren.

Soren blacked out, vaguely aware of the sensation of flying through the air. His mind jolted awake as he struck the ground hard, and he blacked out for a moment again as his head struck the stone pavers.

Soren looked up at the bright blue, clear, cloudless spring sky as he gasped for air that he couldn't quite get, feeling fire searing through his body from the wide wound in his upper body.

"Soren!" Ike called out as he ran over. Ike's face was over him, blurry. Soren’s eyes couldn’t focus. “Soren! Hang on!”

Soren's eyes watered.

There was the clattering sound of hooves galloping across stone. "I've got him!" Mist called out, her voice coming in panicked from the other side. Ike’s face turned away from Soren. "Ike, you have to stop Ashnard! Leave Soren with me."

Ike looked back at Soren. Ike scowled and stood up, running off.

Mist's face loomed over Soren's, far more distant from where she was atop her horse. She was crying as she raised up a staff. "(Bind the wounds and stop the pain,)" she muttered, her head bowed.

The blue orb at the top of the staff glowed brilliantly and a ball of bright blue light shone over Soren. Warmth washed over him and he took a deep gasping breath.

There was the faint sound of heron galdr and Mist used her staff again.

When the light faded, Soren breathed quickly, his heart racing. Soren pushed himself into a seated position and looked up at Mist.

"Thank you," Soren said as he held his abdomen, which was screaming with white-hot pain as he moved.

"Are you okay?" Mist asked, her voice thick with concern despite her skill in healing, her eyes moving as she looked him over.

Soren looked down, there was a thick, long, angry, red scar exposed through a tear in his blood-stained robes from his left hip to his right collarbone. He pushed himself to his feet and winced as pain shot through his body.

"I'll be fine. Support the others."

Soren fought off a wave of vertigo and marched back into the battle.

Mist rode her horse off towards where Titania and Ranulf were fighting Daein troops.

---

"Soren?" Ike asked sleepily, calling out from the bed.

Soren turned around from where he was standing at the window, his arms crossed over his torso. "I'm here," Soren said, his voice shaking.

That had been the same memory that had been dredged up during the fight against Dheginsea. Rajaion's roar at that moment had sounded in his ears when Soren had realized that their boat had crashed against Goldoa all those years ago, forcing him to hide below decks. It had sounded in his ears when the laguz-alliance had accidentally walked into Goldoa more recently.

Soren couldn't deny Ashnard was his father any longer. The thought made him sick to his stomach and drained the warmth from his body.

There was the sound of footsteps and Ike wrapped his arms around Soren. Soren shuddered and leaned his head against Ike's chest, just below his collarbone.

"You've barely been sleeping and been so distant lately," Ike whispered into Soren’s hair. "What's wrong?"

Soren shook his head. To even begin that conversation. To say the words aloud.

Ike held Soren closer. "You know not letting things go is my most frustrating quality," Ike muttered, rubbing Soren's back.

"And your best," Soren said, smiling a little. He shivered and wrapped his arms around Ike. "Not now. Not yet. I need more time."

"Don't bottle it up too long," Ike requested. "I hate seeing you like this."

Soren nodded. “I’ll try not to.”

---

Almedha held the boy to her. "I'm sorry, my son. But you have to go. I will find you soon." She kissed him on the forehead and handed him to a maid. "Remember, tell no one where you came from."

The maid took the boy. "Yes, my lady."

The boy looked up at her and saw the face of the woman who would take custody of him until she sold him to a sage.

---

The boy lost his footing and tripped as he was pulled along a dirt path by the woman. She yanked his arm, pulling his arm, and kept walking.

“S-stop!” the boy called out.

The woman stopped and lifted the boy into the air by the arm and shook him. “Don’t you dare speak, child! I never want to hear your voice again!”

Chapter Text

There was a feast in Mainal Cathedral, celebrating the end of the war. The treaties would be signed tomorrow, and they would all leave the day after that. Everyone wanted Ike and Soren involved in everything as they were the general and strategist of most of the battles that had been fought.

Soren excused himself at the earliest opportunity he could, once the meal was over and the others were socializing. He found the gardens, wandered until he was in the middle of the gardens, found a bench, and sat down.

He sat and thought for a while, leaning forward with his head hung. He rubbed his mark with his thumbs. A few tears fell down his cheeks.

Being around Kurthnaga since their conversation for the last two months had been extremely taxing. The dragon king was as polite to Soren as to anyone else, which Soren appreciated on some level, not being treated any differently. But also, all Soren wanted to do was ignore that the dragons were there, ignore what Kurthnaga had said, ignore the nightmares, ignore the pain in his own heart, ignore the impertinent and curious stares of Reyson. That was made impossible by the fact that Kurthnaga kept greeting Soren politely, and by the fact that Soren was painfully aware that Kurthnaga was otherwise respecting Soren’s distance by choosing not to make small talk with Soren anytime the opportunity presented itself, bumping into each other in the hallway with a polite nod or mutual silence if they were the first to arrive for a meeting.

Soren wished Kurthnaga would simply ignore him, like a laguz should. Not that any of the laguz had actually been ignoring Soren since the truth of the Branded had been revealed to everyone by Nasir and Gareth, much to Soren’s annoyance.

There were footsteps. Soren didn't bother looking up or moving. The gait was Ike's. Specifically when Ike was looking for something. Or someone.

"I'm over here," Soren called out.

Ike walked around a small ivy covered wall, moved towards Soren and sat down next to him. Ike put a hand on Soren's back. "Are you ready to talk about what you're bottling up, or do I need to keep bothering you a bit more?"

Soren smiled to himself and exhaled slowly. He sat up and leaned against Ike. "I'm thinking about how happy I'm going to be when we finally get paid and can go home."

Ike exhaled through his nose and removed his hand from Soren's back to instead wrap the arm around Soren. "That’s not why you’re out here crying, or why you’ve been acting the way you’ve been acting."

Soren sighed. "Not here, Ike, it’s too open."

"Would the room be better?"

"Yes."

Ike stood up and offered a hand to Soren.

Soren rolled his eyes. "They're going to notice you're missing from their party."

"Remind me when I actually cared about these sorts of events?"

Soren took Ike's hand. Ike pulled Soren to his feet and led him out of the gardens, up stairs and around corners to the hallway where Ike’s room was.

Soren technically had been given a room of his own, but he had never spent more than a minute in it. The room Ike had been given was large and lavish, enough to fit everyone's personal quarters into from their mercenary fort. The bed alone was as large as the entirety of Ike's quarters at home. Ike had asked Soren to stay in this room instead, with Ike, so he wouldn't be alone in such a large, soulless room.

Soren closed the door behind them and followed Ike over to the seating area, which was by a lit fireplace, and sat down on a large high backed couch. The bedroom itself was separated by a wall, with a door to it in the corner of the first room.

Ike sat down on the low table in front of Soren. "Talk, please? I have no idea what's bothering you, but it has to be about your laguz and beorc heritage right? You only get moody like this about that subject."

Soren sat back and closed his eyes. "I think the hardest part of this conversation is going to be admitting you were right about a conclusion that I dismissed,” he said with a wry smile.

"That being?"

Soren looked over at Ike. "I." Soren looked to the side. "You still don't give two figs about who my parents are, right?" He asked quietly.

Ike gestured to himself. "It's still just me."

Soren was silent for a long time. "I have the blood of a dragon laguz."

Ike blinked in disbelief.

Soren looked out the window of the room, a dozen feet distant from him. "Specifically the royal family of Goldoa."

"Are you sure?" Ike asked quietly after a second.

Soren’s shoulders fell. "While we were-" He sighed. "While we were fighting in the tower, seeing king Dheginsea forced a distant memory to the surface. From before Gallia. I’ve never been consciously aware of it before."

Ike silently watched Soren.

"I was a child, very young, maybe two years old. It was winter. There was snow. I was being cornered by Rajaion, who was feral at the time. He had been eating someone, a person whom I assume had displeased Ashnard. I was backed against a wall. I called out to my father for help. Rajaion roared at me, and then went back to the body. Ashnard laughed somewhere beyond Rajaion, asking him, "not today, eh, Rajaion?" And that's it." Soren closed his eyes. "I've recalled a few other vague memories since. But it was Rajaion's roar at that moment that's been haunting me my whole life."

"Soren, I-"

"When Kurthnaga approached me about it, I didn't want to believe him. I tried to ignore it. But-" Soren took a deep breath. "Pelleas isn't Branded, I’m sure of that, but Almedha is part of the royal family of Goldoa. Pelleas has a mark of Spirit Protection that nearly matches my Branded mark, something he’s brought up more than once. In my memory, I called out to my father, and the only men there were Rajaion, who obviously was not my father because he had dragon abilities until the day he died, and Ashnard."

"Soren," Ike said softly.

"I can't believe I'm in any way related to that thing." Soren snapped and then forced himself to look up at Ike. "It doesn't change anything between us, right?"

Ike looked at Soren for a moment. Ike smiled a little to himself. "So?" He asked.

Soren smiled ruefully and closed his eyes. "What do you mean, "so?"" He retorted weakly.

Ike spoke slowly, eyes locked with Soren. "So you're Ashnard’s son. So what? You’ve always been his son, and you’ve always been you, Soren. Why would learning the truth change my opinion of you?"

There was silence between them for a moment. The fireplace crackled and snapped behind Ike as a burning log snapped and fell down, sending sparks flying onto the hearth.

Soren stared sternly at Ike. “I still think that is the most insufferable response you could have to hearing something like that. I felt like I was going to die having to tell you what I was, and all you had to say was “so?””

Ike laughed. Soren chuckled despite himself.

"Your way of looking at the world is maddening, Ike. Have I ever told you that?"

"A few times, but you know that's why you like me."

Soren hung his head and smiled in defeat.

Ike moved over and sat next to Soren on the couch. "You said King Kurthnaga talked to you about it?"

Soren nodded. "He filled in some of the blanks. Ashnard was apparently disappointed that I had no special powers, and set his sights on another dragon to fulfill his ambitions. After he used me to trap Rajaion, he'd taunt Almedha by trying to get Rajaion to kill me. She sent me away with a maid to Gallia, intending to find me later, but by that point, I'd already been sold to the sage." Soren closed his eyes and shuddered. "I can't help but wonder if Ashnard targeted me in Melior just because I was open, or if he recognized me somehow. "It's finally time to kill the useless runt," he shouted at me just before he attacked. Did you know that? I can't remember if I told you. At the time, I thought it was a berserk rambling caused by him touching the medallion, so I wrote it off, but now, I can't help but wonder if it meant something else." Soren looked up, suddenly feeling lightheaded, tears gathered in his eyes.

Ike pulled Soren into a protective hug, holding Soren tightly. "I did not kill Ashnard nearly hard enough," he spat out through gritted teeth.

Soren nodded, reaching up and holding Ike back. His voice shook as he spoke. "Did you know I got the name Soren after the dead grandson of one of the Crimean priests who took me in? A boy who had died from a plague in Daein. I never had a name, not properly. Ashnard called me Destroyer. Almedha would have named me when I was five, if she had ever found me."

Ike's fingers dug into Soren’s back as his hold tightened even further. "You never told me that before."

"I'd never had a name as a child. You were the first person to ever ask for it, and I knew I'd need one when I found you again. The head priest named me after his dead grandson, who would have been about my age, and I never thought about it again."

"Do you know what Almedha would have named you?"

"I don't care,” Soren said firmly. Soren had been his name for so long now, whatever his name could have been meant less than nothing to him now.

"All right." Ike said.

After a few minutes of silence, Ike spoke again. "I'm surprised you talked to Kurthnaga about it."

Soren chuckled. "Talked may have been the wrong word. He approached me and broached the subject before I could process what he was getting at."

"That sounds about right."

"I wasn't very kind to him." Soren said softly. He almost regretted the harshness of his response, in light of how steady and respectful Kurthnaga’s response had been. And yet, Soren didn’t know how else he could have responded to the sudden, and decidedly unpleasant, revelation.

Ike took a deep breath and exhaled. Soren listened to the sound of the breath traveling through Ike's chest. "What did you say?" Ike asked, using the tone of voice he used to brace for bad news.

"Something about not wanting to deal with being the son of the Mad King and the grandson of the man who made it so that I was dying due to the hatred of others by the time I met you." Soren paused for a moment. "I really hated how the dragons presented the history of the treatment of Branded as some great indignity Dheginsea had suffered. How much of a noble sacrifice it was for him to deal with having to erase our existence because of his stubbornness and inability to change and adapt. As if that was somehow so much worse than what any Branded goes through. I let Kurthnaga know that too."

Ike was silent for a moment. "What did he say to that?" He asked cautiously.

"He was infuriating. He said he understood, but if I ever wanted to come to Goldoa, I'd be welcome."

Ike was silent for a moment. "So what will you do?"

"There's nothing to do. I am the staff officer of the Greil Mercenaries, and I wouldn't leave you even if you asked." Soren relaxed as he listened to Ike's heartbeat. "There's only one place I belong in the world, and that's the only place I want to be."

Ike held Soren closer. "Well, I can't say I'm hurt. If you wanted to be King of Daein, or Prince of Goldoa, I don't know what I'd do without you by my side."

"Please, me, a royal? Ike, be serious. I'd have upset all of the other rulers and incited war within a week with this tactless tongue of mine."

Ike was quiet as he considered. "I'd give you a year with Crimea. Queen Elincia's used to it."

Soren chuckled.

Ike sighed. "I can't make you have a relationship with Kurthnaga and Almedha if you don't want one. But if you wanted to see them before they left, or visit them at any point from now on, I'd go with you if you wanted me there."

Soren grunted noncommittally. A relationship with laguz? While the looks the beasts of Gallia had given him as a child still sat on his heart like a glacier? Unlikely. It took all of his effort to socialize with them on any level.

"Have to admit I'm a little shocked, though,” Ike said eventually, “I'm not sure I could have insulted the king of Goldoa's father like that, and I'm not terrified of dragons like you are."

"Well, now that I know that event only occurred because my own father, who had a hand in my creation, also desired me to not exist, it's in much more familiar territory."

Ike rolled his eyes. They sat in silence, basked in the warm glow of the crackling fireplace. Soren shifted so he was laying on the sofa, his head in Ike’s lap and watched as the light from the fire shifted on Ike’s face.

"Could you imagine if Ashnard had recognized your talents and kept you around?" Ike asked after a little while, looking down at Soren.

"Daein would not have lost."

"I think I could have taken you,” Ike said, putting his hand on the side of Soren’s face.

"I'd have been properly trained in military strategy as a tactician. You wouldn't have," Soren retorted, putting his hand over Ike’s.

"No? I couldn't have even won you over to my side?"

Soren considered for a moment. "Maybe. I doubt Ashnard would have ever shown me affection or seen me as anything more than a tool. You could have still been the first person to care about me. But then, the prince falling for the enemy general would have been too much of a scandal. I doubt I would have changed sides so easily."

"My father was a former Rider of Daein, you know. Maybe that could have helped my case?"

"I doubt it."

Ike laughed, pulling his hand away from Soren’s to run his fingers through Soren’s hair on the side of his head. "Well, I guess I should count my blessings that Ashnard didn't want you, and Dheginsea didn't want to recognize you or help you."

"That's an interesting point." Soren sat up and looked at Ike.

"What is?"

"If it hadn't been for Dheginsea's stubbornness, I wouldn't have met you."

Ike nodded. "You’d have been hidden away in Goldoa your entire life."

Soren shifted and leaned against Ike's chest. "Under the understanding that I still think Dheginsea was a stubborn fool, I will admit that his decision worked out for the best. However, I still don’t like what he did."

Ike put his arm around Soren.

Chapter Text

Soren and Ike stood outside of the door of the suite where Prince Kurthnaga and Almedha were staying with Nasir and Ena. Gareth was at the end of the hall, watching the two of them.

Ike shifted his weight on his feet and looked down at Soren.

"We don't have to be here if you don't want to be," Ike said softly.

"No, I," Soren trailed off as he looked at his feet. Did he want to?

"You're going to have to make a decision soon, preferably before someone opens the door.”

Soren grabbed Ike's hand and shut his eyes. "Knock, please."

"You're sure?"

Soren nodded. He needed answers only Almedha could give to him, and they were all leaving tomorrow.

"Okay," Ike said and then stepped forward, knocking loudly on the door.

Ike stepped back next to Soren. Soren squeezed Ike's hand tightly. Ike closed his fingers over Soren's and squeezed his hand briefly.

I'm here.

There was the sound of footsteps approaching the door. Swift, light, and sure. Kurthnaga.

Soren opened his eyes, but kept his gaze focused on the floor. The door opened and Kurthnaga stood on the other side. Soren looked at Kurthnaga’s feet.

"General Ike, Soren," Kurthnaga said, his voice warm, but distant, "How are you?"

"Good," Ike said, "We're getting ready to leave tomorrow and go back home to Crimea."

"Yes, that is where your mercenary company is, right?"

"Yeah, our headquarters are in Crimea. It will be nice to go back home and dust it out."

"I think I will have to visit sometime. I would like to see as much of the world as I can."

Soren felt a slight tug on his arm as Ike twisted to look at Soren.

"I guess that would be okay," Ike said after a moment, "Just don't forget how much different the years are for us beorc than for you dragons."

"Oh! Right. Of course."

There was a brief lapse of silence.

"Could we come in and talk?" Soren asked.

"Oh, yes." Kurthnaga stepped away from the door. "Please, come in."

Soren stepped into the room, Ike followed him in. Kurthnaga closed the door and Soren let go of Ike’s hand.

The common area of the suite had a seating arrangement by a fireplace. There were four doors, two on the left and two on the right.

"Is it my sister you wish to speak to?" Kurthnaga asked quietly from the door behind them after a moment.

"Yes," Soren said, feeling more like running away than staying and talking.

Kurthnaga walked past Soren and Ike towards one of the doors on the left and knocked. "Sister, you have a visitor."

"A minute, Kurth," Almedha’s voice called out through the door.

Kurthnaga turned and walked over to the seating area, gesturing to it. "You may make yourselves comfortable."

Soren sat down in one of the couches, the one that faced a chair. Ike moved to sit in another chair but Soren looked at Ike sharply and then looked pointedly at the space on the couch to Soren’s right. Ike sat down next to Soren.

Kurthnaga sat down in the chair Ike had moved towards.

The door that Kurthnaga had knocked on opened behind Soren. There was a pause and then footsteps. Almedha walked over and sat down in the chair opposite Soren and Ike.

"S-soren and Ike, was it?" Almedha asked, her voice high and strained. "Was there something you needed?"

Soren looked up at Almedha and then over at Kurthnaga.

Kurthnaga cleared his throat. "He knows, sister," Kurthnaga said with a guilty tone to his voice. "He had a right to know the truth."

Soren certainly could have died in peace never knowing, but he supposed if he outlived any other Branded, he would have wanted to know. His head felt dizzy as he compared the lifespans of dragons to any other creature, especially a beorc like Ike.

Almedha shot Kurthnaga a sharp look, to which he flinched, and then looked over to Soren. "I." Her chest rose and fell quickly. "My son, I-"

Soren raised a hand. "I just wanted answers to some questions. I don't." He took a deep breath. "I don't know how I feel about that yet." The swirling mix of emotions he felt was overwhelming. He kept his gaze firmly focused away from her face.

"I will tell you anything you want to know, Soren," Almedha sat straight, with her hands in her lap.

There were so many questions in Soren’s mind. He picked the loudest. "Why Ashnard?" He asked, studying the patterns on the rug.

Almedha was silent for a moment. "I had left Goldoa because I was angry with my father. When I found Ashnard in Daein, Ashnard was everything my father wasn't." Almedha closed her eyes. "I was foolish. I thought there was more between us, but he had only been interested in me because of my powers. When I lost them, he had no interest in me anymore." She took a deep shuddering breath.

"Was I there when Rajaion was turned? I." Soren shook a little. "I seem to recall him coming to help you. Something about fighting Feral Ones to prove his strength?" For this question, Soren had to look at her, watch her facial reaction.

Almedha’s eyes widened and tears gathered in her eyes. "You were only a year and a half old," she said softly.

"I find I can remember almost anything from my life in perfect detail," Soren said, "I had thought there was nothing earlier than Gallia for a long time, but I’ve been," Soren paused. He looked over towards the fireplace. “I don’t know what I’m remembering, and what I’m making up to fill in the gaps.”

Almedha closed her eyes. "Yes, you were there. Rajaion fought off several dozen Feral Ones, until he could no longer stay transformed, and even then he continued to fight. I saw Ashnard holding the drug that would turn Rajaion, and I tried to convince him to leave, but he wouldn’t. I tried to hold you close, so you wouldn't have to watch, but Ashnard grabbed your head and pulled it up so you could see what he had wanted you to be."

Soren shook slightly. "When was I born?"

"The fifth day of January, in the year 626."

"Why did you stay with Ashnard?"

"He was still a little interested in you, if only as a means to get at my brother, so I would have been chased if I left with you, and I saw the lengths he would go to in order to get his way."

"Why didn't you take me to Gallia? Why did you give me to that woman?"

"I had to stay for at least a little while to keep Ashnard from finding you. He told me he wouldn't be satisfied that Rajaion was totally under his control until my brother killed you."

"Were you not aware of how much she hated Branded and laguz, or was she your only option?"

"She was the only one I could trust to be more loyal to me than to Ashnard. Well, more loyal to the money I paid her than to Ashnard. But she really did hate the laguz. Everyone in the castle did. I was heartbroken when she returned without you, saying she had sold you to a sage. I tried to find you, but Ashnard locked me up and hid me away, so I couldn’t cause him more trouble."

"When she came back, did she tell you how she treated me?"

"N-no," Almedha stammered. Soren could feel the weight of her gaze on him. “What did she do?”

Soren sat back, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. He rested the ankle of his right foot on his knee. "She'd call me things like trash, Branded scum, worthless. Anytime I tried to speak, she'd beat me so hard that I would stop. I eventually stopped trying. She barely fed me, told me ants deserved her table scraps more than I did. Every day, she'd wail about how unfair it was that she had to care for me. She was delirious with joy when the sage offered to take me from her, and the money he offered her for relieving her of me was hardly necessary, but she took it all the same."

Soren felt Ike place a hand on his shoulder. Soren looked up at Ike and then over to Almedha. She had her hands over her mouth, tears falling down her face. Kurthnaga was leaning forward in his seat, his face pale.

Soren looked down at the floor.

"The sage treated you better, right?" Kurthnaga asked after a moment.

Soren looked at Kurthnaga and rolled his eyes. His anger and frustration caused him to speak faster than he could desire not to. "By comparison, dying of starvation, dirty and alone in the jungles of Gallia was better than her. So yes, he was better, but not by much. I barely slept. I barely ate. He never wanted to hear a word from me unless I was practicing incantations in the ancient tongue." Soren took a deep breath and looked over towards a window. He'd said this much already. "Two years later, he died, and within a short period of time, I had eaten through all of his food stores and I was alone in the jungles of Gallia, dying. I found the beorc village, but they shooed me away because I was Branded, and I had no idea how to talk to them. If Ike hadn't found me, given me food, offered to help, I'd be dead."

Almedha looked over to Ike. "Thank you," she said, her lip trembling.

"I'd like to say it's what anyone would have done," Ike said and trailed off. The other half of the sentence, but it clearly isn’t, went unsaid, hanging heavily in the air of the room.

"How did you get your name, Soren?" Kurthnaga asked.

Soren sighed. "After I met Ike, I didn't trust him. I wouldn't go with him to his house. It didn't feel safe. He told me he'd come back the next day. However, the next day," Soren trailed off, looking up at Ike.

"My father accidentally touched Lehran’s Medallion that morning. It consumed him, made him lose his mind," Ike said, "He killed almost everyone in the village, including my mother. Afterwards, my father took us to Crimea and founded his mercenary company there."

"I looked for Ike amongst the dead bodies, but I never found him,” Soren continued, “I felt pulled north, towards Crimea, towards where the beorc lived. I found myself in the care of a church near the border once I arrived. One of the priests gave me the name Soren in memory of his dead grandson. A boy who was killed by the plague in Daein. I eventually found my way to where the Greil Mercenaries were. Ike's father let me join them."

"I'm so sorry," Almedha said, looking into Soren’s eyes. "I never imagined it could have turned out so badly for you."

Soren stood up and walked over to the fireplace. He laced the fingers of his hands and rested his hands against the sash of his robes. "I don't." He fell silent for a moment. "I'm not telling you this to make you feel worse. You obviously tried to take care of me. It’s true that despite your efforts, my life wasn’t pleasant." Soren stared into the fire. He wasn't a pleasant person as a result of that, but he didn’t feel anything towards Almedha. His emotions had settled, and he felt nothing. No anger, or resentment, or hatred. Not even the bitterness he felt for Dheginsea and Lehran. He certainly didn’t feel anything positive towards her either, she was just another person he knew now. "Regardless, I don't know that I would change anything about my life knowing everything I do, as that would take away from where I am currently. However, I want you to know that the worst memories of my time in Gallia by far are from when I was in laguz villages. The way they would look at me. Like had I no right to even have been born. The denial of my even being alive. I can’t forget that so easily. I understand most Branded feel the same about laguz. Being acknowledged and hated is better than being treated like you don’t even exist.”

"I think I understand why you said the things you did," Kurthnaga said.

Soren nodded. "I don't really have more I wish to discuss right now."

"My son," Almedha whispered and Soren flinched. "What will you do now?"

Soren closed his eyes. "I'm staying in Crimea with Ike and the Greil Mercenaries. You should go to Goldoa with Kurthnaga, or stay in Daein if that pleases you." He frowned and took a deep breath.

Almedha closed her eyes and nodded. "Will I ever see you again?"

"I'm not sure. Our lives have the potential to be too long to say anything for certain." Soren turned from the fireplace and walked past the sofa where Ike sat. He paused for a moment and glanced briefly up at Almedha. "Thank you for talking to me," he said softly and then walked out of the room.

Ike stood up. "Lady Almedha. King Kurthnaga. Take care." He bowed to them and started to leave.

"Thank you," Almedha called out after him. "For being there for my son when I could not."

Ike nodded and left the room.