A/N: So this is what you guys are getting for now whilst I work on ToR. :P Honestly though, I've been playing with this idea for such a long time now. So in case you're wondering, the title is Latin and it literally translates to "Another Life." I figured it would be fitting for a story like this lol. This is part one. Part two will be up...whenever I get the chance. ;P Basically, I'm trying to re-write the entirety of PoR so that it fits with the new storyline I've created, so I figured it would be best to split it into two parts. So that's that. Hope you guys like it! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem. All characters belong to Nintendo/Intelligent Systems.

I live in a magical world,
where imagination grows.
And where the sky is almost always
as purple as the snow.
When I go to sleep at night
in my five foot floating bed,
pictures from another place
start flipping through my head.
I see frightful images
as I strive so hard to dream.
But all the things I see from there
just make me want to scream!
I've seen things so horrid
that I could sometimes cry.
And I just wonder why
so many people always die.
When I wake, I'm glad to see
my neighbors shaking hands.
I just wish that we could teach
this to that other land.
Last night I dreamt another girl
was dreaming of me too.
But when she went outside to play,
her skies were always blue.

-Jenna LeAnn

"Soren, dear, could you please hold still for just a moment?" Almedha fussed as she tried to hold a piece of fabric in place on top of her son's shoulder. "Honestly, you're not making this very easy for me."

"Then perhaps you could stop trying to stab me with that wretched thing?" Soren suggested haughtily, eyeing the sharp pointed needle in his mother's hand. He immediately realized his error and tried to make amends for it. "I apologize, Mother. My tone was beyond rude."

Almedha sighed contentedly and placed her free hand atop Soren's other shoulder, leaning her face close to his. "It's alright. I know you'd rather be off studying your tomes or practicing strategy. But this is something that I really want to do for you. So could you please cooperate, love?"

Soren knew his mother meant well, but she was always so very attached to him, ever since he was a young boy. No matter what he was doing, she would always be there to make sure nothing could ever hurt him. She had unintentionally built walls around him, sheltering him from things he should've had the chance to experience. But he knew she only did these things because she loved him, and he would never complain about that. He glanced down at the bright purple cloth his mother had wrapped around him, and let out an ever so slight sigh. "Remind me again why it had to be purple?"

Almedha just smiled knowingly. "Because purple is a symbol of honor and authority. Not to mention it's been worn by Daein royals for their coming of age ceremonies for centuries." She finished up the stitching on his shoulder and took a slight step back. "And besides, I think you look very fetching in it." Soren turned and raised an eyebrow, giving her an inquisitive look. "But of course, it would also help if you smiled a bit more, dear," she said, letting out a soft chuckle.

"You know I don't like to smile," Soren replied. "I'm just not the type of person who goes around smiling all the time like you."

"Nobody smiles all the time, dear. I'd be worried if that were the case." Almedha unthreaded her needle and began putting her sewing supplies back into their respectful containers. "But you know, even as a child you didn't smile much. Your father and I had to go to quite a bit of trouble to get you to smile." Her expression became one of fondness, but it was quickly wiped off her face. "Speaking of which, do you know where he is?"

"I believe he said he would be out hunting all day today," Soren answered, trying to get out of the garment his mother had just finished sewing. "What did you do to this? It's impossible to get off."

"That's because the clasps are in the back, dear," Almedha laughed, undoing the clasps herself. "There, now you can just pull it over your head."

"I don't suppose Grandfather will be at the ceremony," Soren said as he put his regular clothes back on.

Almedha sighed. "I know you think he hates you but I can assure you he doesn't, really. He's just stubborn." She gave her son a slight smirk. "And in a lot of ways you're just like him."

"Meanwhile he's never even seen me and barely acknowledges my existence," Soren pointed out. "Why is he so concerned about borders, anyway? What does he have to fear?" He sat down on a nearby sofa and pulled on his boots.

Almedha took a moment to look over her son before she answered. There upon his forehead was the answer to both of his questions. She crossed over to the sofa and sat down next to him. "My father is an incredibly ornery old man who doesn't like change," she explained, though Soren had been told this many times before. "He thinks that Goldoa should remain isolated for eternity, and that was where him and I always disagreed. Eventually, it led to our falling out, and then I came here." She gently ran a few fingers through Soren's long, dark hair. "Anyway, I'm much happier here than I was in Goldoa. I married the man of my dreams, and had a truly wonderful son." She smiled brightly and kissed the side of Soren's head.

Soren looked at his mother with a fond expression and took her hand in his. "I'm glad you're happy, Mother, but sometimes I can't help but wonder why you did all this? I mean, you gave up everything for me and Father. You can't take dragon form anymore and that's because of me."

Almedha squeezed his hand tightly. "Sweetheart, I didn't give those things up. I surrendered them for love. I can assure you there's a difference. I knew very well that I wouldn't be able to transform anymore once I had you, but I did it because your father and I love each other and we wanted a child. And do you know what? You are so much more important to me than the ability to transform into a dragon." Soren couldn't help but laugh a little at what she said, and Almedha felt as though her heart were about to leap out of her chest. Her son's laughter was the single most beautiful sound she had ever heard in her entire life. Suddenly, horses and various shouts could be heard outside the castle walls. "Oh, do you hear that? I think your father's home."

Soren looked a bit alarmed. "But he said he'd be gone all day."

"Well, perhaps something happened," Almedha offered, hoping that whatever it was, it wasn't bad. "Let's go downstairs and greet him."

Daein Keep was an enormous castle with many halls and stairways. As a boy, Soren used to get hours of enjoyment from running up and down the halls and everywhere else he possibly could. But now as he descended the stairs behind his mother, he only felt apprehensive. His father never returned so early from hunting, since he was much too proud and determined to quit. Being the pessimist that Soren was by nature, he couldn't help but think something awful had happened.

The king of Daein, Ashnard, burst through the large castle doors, and immediately began scanning the room. "Where's my family?" he asked one of the guards, sounding quite desperate.

"I think they're on their way down, Your Majesty," the guard answered, shaken up by the king's haste. "If I may ask, Your Majesty, what's going on?"

"Never mind!" Ashnard said hurriedly. "Almedha! Soren! Where are you?" He shouted, and Soren knew then that his suspicions were confirmed. When they arrived in the foyer, they were both grabbed in an embrace.

"Father?" Soren questioned, not used to this type of affection shown by his father. A pat on the back was often the highest form of affection he ever received.

Ashnard looked into his son's deep red eyes and saw the worry in them. "I'm so glad you're both alright," he breathed.

"Darling, what's going on?" Almedha asked. "Did something happen?"

"I'm afraid so," Ashnard answered. "It's Begnion. They've declared war on us." This earned a gasp from both Almedha and Soren. "While I was hunting, I ran into some Begnion troops. Apparently, they were planning to assassinate both of you while I was out."

"What are we going to do?" Almedha asked worriedly. "Begnion's army is at least three times larger than ours!"

Ashnard grabbed his wife's hands and held them tightly in his own. "Listen, both of you," he glanced over at Soren. "We need to go to Crimea immediately. I know Begnion. They'll try to kill us first and then watch Daein fall to ruins. Once we've reached the capital safely, then we can request Crimean aid in this war."

The Daein royal family fled their home of Nevassa just moments after Ashnard's return. They took two horses with them, Ashnard riding his own and Almedha and Soren sharing one, since they were both very light. They couldn't afford to be seen by anyone, so the less horses they had with them, the better. Soren couldn't help but be amazed at the vast landscape of the world around him. After all, he had never been allowed to set foot outside the castle gates.

After many days of riding, Soren finally decided to inquire things of his father. "So what exactly is the plan here, Father?" he shouted.

"We keep heading straight for Melior. We can't afford to stop or else the Begnion spotters will have the jump on us," Ashnard hollered back to his son over the noise of the horses. "We're going to keep pushing forward, no matter what."

"Understood," Soren said, though not loud enough for his father to hear. He felt his mother wrap her arms tighter around his waist. He knew she was scared out of her mind.

About an hour after Soren had spoken to his father, it had begun to rain. The rain made it very difficult to see things clearly, but Ashnard directed them to keep going. Soren desperately wanted to knock some sense into his father, but he was much too afraid. He and his father had never argued about anything before, mainly because Soren was taught to never disagree with him. They continued in the rain for several hours, when Ashnard finally announced that they had strewn very far off course.

"We probably travelled directly past Melior," he informed his family while they were taking a brief rest to discuss their new route. "The rain was so thick, I'm afraid I led us down the wrong path."

"I had the feeling we were heavily off course," Soren remarked, not looking at his father.

"What? Son, why didn't you say something? We could have avoided this!" Ashnard put his hands a bit roughly on Soren's shoulders, causing the young man to flinch.

"I'm sorry," Soren apologized, now turning his eyes toward his father, seeking pity from him. "I didn't want to interfere with you. Ever since I was young, you told me-"

"That doesn't matter now!" Ashnard raised his voice. Almedha laid her hand on his arm, giving him a stern look. Ashnard sighed, then took his hands off of Soren. "Alright, we can fix this. Judging from our current position, I'd say we're roughly near the village of Caldea. That means we're still very far away from Melior. We should wait for the rain to stop, then continue-"

But before Ashnard could say anymore, an arrow flew out of nowhere and buried itself deep into Soren's side. The young prince screamed before falling to the ground in a heap.

"Soren!" Almedha shrieked. "Oh, my baby!" She fell to her knees and gathered Soren in her arms, examining the wound. With a horrified visage, she looked up at her husband, who stood there shocked. "Where did that arrow come from?" Within a matter of seconds, several Begnion soldiers stood atop of a nearby hill.

"Almedha, take Soren and seek shelter within the trees! I'll protect you!" Ashnard ordered, drawing his sword.

"Are you insane?!" Almedha cried. "You can't take them all on by yourself!"

"Do as I say, Almedha! Go!" Ashnard bellowed. Almedha let a few tears escape her eyes before she scooped up her son's body and retreated as fast she could to the forest's edge.

"Alright, but I'll never forgive you if you die," she muttered.

Ashnard let out a loud battle cry as he charged at the battalion. He mercilessly cut down one soldier, the another. But as he was about to go for the third one, a lance found his shoulder. He stumbled back and covered the wound with his other hand. He raised his sword to strike the soldier who had hit him, when an arrow came from the opposite direction and planted itself directly into the soldier's heart. Ashnard glanced back, only to see a group of common mercenaries behind him. Though, he instantly recognized their leader.

"Gawain?" he asked as the group approached him.

"Greetings, Your Majesty," the man known as Gawain bowed slightly. "I must say it's a pleasure to see you again, though I wish it were under different circumstances." Gawain impaled a solider with his axe as the poor soul came near him. It looked absolutely effortless.

"Agreed," Ashnard said as he cut down another one. "Listen, my son has taken an arrow to the gut. He and his mother are over there by the trees." He pointed to the thicket. "Do you have a healer with you?"

Gawain called for a young man named Rhys, and the orange-haired priest immediately ran off toward the trees. "He'll be fine now," Gawain assured. "Rhys is the most capable healer I know."

"Mother?" Soren questioned groggily as Rhys knelt down next to him. "What's going on?"

Almedha shushed him quietly. "It's alright," she said. "There's someone here to help you now." She smiled adoringly at Rhys and mouthed a 'thank you'. The priest in turn blushed, and began his work. The last thing Soren saw before he blacked out was a soft blue glow coming closer to him.

"He's going to be alright," Rhys assured the king and queen as he walked out of the room Soren was resting in. "It was just a deep puncture wound. The arrow didn't pierce any of his internal organs." Almedha let out a large breath she had been holding, and Ashnard looped an arm around her waist.

"We can't thank you enough for this," Almedha said graciously. "You saved our son's life." She approached the gentle healer and enfolded her arms around him, whispering 'thank you' into his ear over and over again.

"Indeed, Rhys. You've done a fine job," Gawain said, approaching them. He clapped a hand on Rhys's shoulder. There was a moment of silence, then Gawain spoke to the healer in a more soft tone of voice. "Why don't you go and help Mist with her healing lessons now? I would like to have a moment alone with Their Majesties." Rhys nodded, then turned to leave.

Gawain turned his attention to the royal pair once more. "I suppose you already know what I'm going to bring up."

Ashnard nodded his head slowly. "The medallion. Yes, I know."

"Begnion came after us because they thought we still had it?" Almedha inquired.

"That's the only logical explanation," Ashnard agreed. "But it's been in your possession for many years, Gawain. Why all of a sudden do they seek it now?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Gawain said, shaking his head slightly. "One more thing, I go by Greil now."

"You changed your name in an effort to hide your identity, then? That makes sense, I suppose. After you and Elena fled, I suspected I would hear of you again by a different name." Ashnard looked around the small mercenary fort for a moment. "Speaking of Elena, where is she?" He immediately regretted the question when Greil looked down at the floor.

"She's dead," he answered solemnly. "I...the medallion. I accidentally touched it one day. In my rage, I ended up slaughtering the entire village we lived in. She ran up and grabbed the medallion from me, but not before I impaled her with my sword..." Almedha's hand flew to her chest and she gasped. "I killed my wife. The only woman I ever loved. My children...they have no idea that their father is a monster."

Almedha grabbed Greil's hands in her own. "You are not a monster. It was the medallion that did this. It's chaotic energy is far too great for any normal person to handle. Elena knew this. I'm sure of it."

"Your words are kind, Queen Almedha," Greil responded, looking up at her. "Thank you." He turned to leave. "If you'll excuse me, I should go see how my company is doing. Rhys said your son is sleeping, but I'm sure it wouldn't hurt if you wanted to go in and see him."

"Thanks once again for your hospitality, Greil," Ashnard said. Greil nodded, then walked down the hallway toward the fort entrance.

The king and queen sat by Soren's bedside once in the room. Almedha ran her fingers along his face, loving the feeling of his smooth, pale skin. "My dear boy," she cooed. Leaning down, she gently kissed the mark upon his forehead.

"We need to tell him, Almedha," Ashnard said suddenly. He looked at his son's placid, sleeping face and sighed. "If we are headed to Melior then we're bound to come across some people who will revile him. I fear that he knows nothing of the treatment of his kind. Being that he was never allowed to leave the castle, he was never able to hear the nasty things people said about him."

Almedha scoffed a bit, "You say that like it's a bad thing. I only did what I thought was best. Hearing all those awful things would've destroyed his psyche."

"Almedha, I know that you love him dearly, as do I. But you have to admit that you've sheltered him far too much. He doesn't even know what he is, at least not to the extent that he should. He has no idea that the world hates those like him." Ashnard tenderly took hold of his wife's hand. "Now that he'll be in contact with people that aren't the palace attendants, he'll need to know everything. As soon as he wakes up, we tell him."

Almedha glanced back down at Soren, a frown tugging at her lips. "Alright. I suppose it's for the best."

As if on cue, Soren's eyes fluttered open. "Where am I?" he asked, scanning the room quickly. "What happened?"

"We were ambushed by Begnion soldiers," Ashnard told him. "You were hit with an arrow. Luckily an old friend of mine and his mercenary company were nearby to help us. We're in their fortress now." Soren nodded, looking a bit more calm. "Listen, Soren. There's something that your mother and I need to tell you."

"What is it?" Soren asked, getting nervous again. He could feel his palms sweating against the coarse fabric of the blanket that was covering him.

"Sweetheart," Almedha started, gathering up all her courage. "Do you remember what I told you? About what you are, I mean?"

Soren's eyebrows knitted themselves together. "You told me I was one of the Branded, but you didn't say much else about it." A deafening silence hung in the air for several seconds. "Why?" Soren finally asked, with a bit of urgency.

Almedha began wringing her hands softly, searching for the right words. "Well, you see, the Branded are called...cursed...by many people. When a beorc and a laguz mate, it's considered a violation of the Goddess. As punishment, the child that results from the union is given a mark, a sign that shows all what they are, and the sin that their parents committed."

Soren reached up to his forehead and touched his brand. "So this...is far worse than you made it seem all these years."

Almedha's crimson eyes began to fill with tears. "I'm so sorry, Soren. I never wanted you to know any of this. I tried to keep it from you. That's why I never let you outside the castle." She rested her face in her hands and began to weep.

Ashnard's strong hand found his wife's shoulder. "Calm yourself, Almedha. The worst is over." He turned his attention back to Soren, who looked very flustered. "Son, the reason we're telling you this now is so you're not wondering why people keep giving you strange looks once we begin our journey to Melior. And once we get to Melior, it will likely only be worse. Rest assured, though, I will personally knock the teeth out of whoever dares to insult you."

Soren allowed himself to smile a little. "Thank you, Father."

The next morning, Rhys deemed Soren well enough to travel. Greil insisted that he and his mercenaries would accompany the royal family to Melior, which the king and queen graciously agreed to. Greil explained that there could be Begnion soldiers positioned anywhere looking for them, and that it would be best if they had more numbers. Ashnard and Almedha insisted on paying Greil for his services, but he would not allow it. He said that seeing the two of them again was payment enough.

The moment Soren was told he could get out of bed, he did so, immediately gathering up his things for the journey ahead. He didn't bring much with him to begin with; just a change of clothes and a few of his most treasured tomes. They hadn't the time to pack much else, but Soren wouldn't have brought much anyway. He didn't like to carry around too many unnecessary things.

Once his bag was packed, Soren left the room he was staying in. For the first time, he was able to see what the mercenary fort looked like. The hallway he was in was fairly long, with many doors leading to other rooms. He walked down the hall a ways until he reached a larger, open room where a long table sat in the center. Assuming it was their common room and that they were to meet there before they departed, Soren pulled up a chair and sat down. It wasn't until he heard a voice that he was alerted to another presence in the room.

"Hey, if you're not busy, do you think you could help me with a few things?" Soren's attention snapped to a young man with vibrant blue hair on the other side of the room. He was busying himself putting rations of dried meat into a few burlap sacks. When he noticed that Soren made no move to come help and just stared, he asked again. "You can understand me, right? Daein doesn't speak some other language, do they?"

Soren was more than shocked that the young man had said such a thing, but then he remembered that he was no longer at home. "Of course I can understand you," he affirmed, shaking his head rather quickly. "I'm sorry, it's just...I'm not all that used to being addressed so informally." Well, what could he say? It was the truth, after all.

The young man looked confused for a beat, but realization soon spread across his face. "Oh! Geez, I'm sorry! I guess I forgot that you're a prince." His face turned a little red then, clearly showing his embarrassment. His hand found the back of his head and he scratched it nervously. "My dad's always told me that I'm horribly blunt at times and that my manners really need work. Please, accept my apology, Your Highness." As he said this, he bowed his head awkwardly.

Soren wanted to laugh, but at the same time he didn't want to make the poor boy feel any worse. So he settled for a small smile instead. "It's alright. Don't trouble yourself over it. In fact, you can just call me Soren if it makes you more comfortable."

"Right, Soren," he said, testing the name out on his tongue. "And you can call me Ike." He held out his hand to Soren.

"Hello, Ike," Soren said, taking the hand that was offered to him. "I hope that we can be friends."

"Same here," Ike agreed. "So what do you say? Could you lend me a hand, here?"

Soren's smile grew a bit wider. "Sure."

A/N: Stick around! Part two coming soon! (Or, you know...hopefully soon :P)