The Universe in Your Arms

by SharkbaitSekki

Ike and Soren don't manage to leave Tellius before they're caught up in another conflict. This time, they end up captive in the hands of a man who will stop at nothing to win his battles, even if it means drawing out the feral animal inside of Soren. And though Soren may suffer as he loses himself, he always finds salvation in the expanse of Ike's arms. IkeSoren H/C, post-RD.

Author's Note

So when the Dauntless Crimeans banner came out in FE:Heroes, I got super curious about the pretty and badass-looking girl Nephenee, so I looked her up, and it turns out she was from PoR/RD. I knew Ike from Super Smash only, so I figured I'd investigate a bit on his games. A week later, I'm done with PoR and RD and I am crying my heart out because the Tellius games are officially my favourite Fire Emblem games (shortly followed by Sacred Stones, and then, believe it or not, Fates). Also, Nephenee is TOTALLY NOT what I expected from just looking at that banner, LOL.

Anyway. I'm just. So late to the Tellius party but so fucking ready to get wild. So here is my "I'm late but I bring snacks" contribution to this fandom. 26k monster oneshot that I wanted to write to make people cry but then I ended up crying myself because I love Ike and Soren so much. In PoR I was like "yeah, sure, I can see why people ship them" and then in RD I was like "GOD HELP ME I WILL DIE FOR THEM". IDK what happened.

Warnings include graphic torture and physical abuse, psychological abuse, and a shit ton of "no homo" but we all know that IkeSoren is canon so whatever.

Please enjoy!

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The downpour had begun as soon as they'd been escorted from their camp in restraints, as if to warn them of catastrophes to come. Soren grit his teeth when the rope tightened around his wrists began to burn through his skin, trying to ease the friction by hurrying his steps. The horse to which he was tied was cantering along, unbothered by the rain, nor the fact that the man it was leading was stumbling at the accelerated pace. At the very least, Ike stumbled along behind the horse next to him, which was all Soren needed to keep going.

He didn't know where they were going, nor what would happen to them when they got there, but for now, drinking in the sight of his closest companion by his side was all that Soren required to keep breathing.

The leader of the company that had ambushed and captured them in their camp halted their advance with a barked order, and Soren took the opportunity to get a better look at Ike. The wound he'd sustained from the heavy mace to the head seemed to have stopped bleeding, although it was hard to tell through the curtain of rain. Ike's blood had washed out of his hair, and now stained his shoulder and back in telltale dark patches. He still looked mildly disoriented, eyes darting unsteadily between Soren and the men around them. Knowing Ike, he was probably trying to think of a way to disarm the closest soldier and somehow get an edge in this situation. Soren would've advised him not to make a move just yet, but with tight gags biting across both of their mouths, it was a little hard to do at the present time.

Momentarily, Soren indulged in a feeling of inadequacy that had been festering inside of him ever since the two of them were captured. Ike had put up a fight and had to be physically subdued in order to be restrained, whilst Soren had barely had time to knock a few soldiers off their feet in his impressive gusts of wind before he was tackled to the ground from behind. It wasn't the first time that someone had taken advantage of his blind spot like that. He knew he tended not to look in his periphery when he focused to cast his spells, but usually, someone always watched his back when he did so. It made him realize how much he had come to rely on the Mercenaries, not that he would ever admit it to them.

It was too late for regrets now, though. Right now, his only concern was to see Ike safely through this ordeal. Once they reached their unknown destination, he would surely be able to advise him on a course of action. For now, though, he locked gazes with Ike, and hoped that he could convey to him to stand down. There was no use in antagonizing their captors further for the moment.

"The fort is within sight, commander!" One of the soldiers yelled over the crashing rain. Soren flicked a soaked strand of hair out of his face to analyze the people around them as best as he could. The one on horseback at the very front, obviously leading the troop, set his horse into a slow trot once more.

"Onward, men," he ordered, setting the entire group into march. "Lord Aventi has granted us quarters for the night, so the faster we move, the faster we get paid, and the faster we can enjoy the fine meads of Persis."

Mercenaries, then, from the sound of it. Mercenaries hired by some important figure of Begnion aristocracy, with the clear intent of capturing and delivering them to their contractor. They had attacked them with scary accuracy, exploiting Soren's hidden weak point and knowing to surprise and overwhelm Ike if they were to have any chance at subduing him. They'd clearly been briefed extensively about their task. That only served to make Soren wonder who this 'Lord Aventi' was, and what he wanted with them.

They set forth once more, Soren lurching forward when his horse gave him a rough tug. He stumbled lightly, trying to regain his footing on the soaked soil, but slipped.

"Keep moving, prisoner," the mercenary behind him grunted, shoving him roughly forward. Soren had a moment to wonder why he'd thought it to be a good idea to push a man who'd lost his balance, before he lost his footing and went tumbling straight down into the mud.

He impacted the ground roughly on his side, splashing his elbow, hip, and pants with mud. A grunt escaped through the gag shoved past his lips, although it was masked by the sound of a horse's whinny. Soren lifted his gaze to the side to find Ike's horse halted, fighting against the tug of Ike's bonds. Ike himself had planted his feet into the mud, vigorously tugging at his bindings to try and get to Soren. It was a display of strength that clearly made the mercenaries around them very uncomfortable, and Soren relished in their discomfort as he pushed himself to his knees. The man who'd pushed him, in guise of a weak apology, tried to help him back up, but Soren tugged his arm out of his grip and righted himself independently. That at least seemed to ease Ike's worries a little.

The mercenaries did not touch them again, and the rest of the march was spent in a tense silence filled by the noise of crashing rain. At the very least, Soren was grateful that the heavens cleaned the mud off his frayed robes. He never was the optimist, in any situation, but he couldn't help but look at the bright side of the situation. At least Ike was alright. And they were almost out of the rain.

Their troupe stopped in the courtyard, the leader of the mercenaries saluting the soldiers stationed at the gate as they strode in. Ike and Soren were untied from the horses, and suddenly found themselves surrounded by spears once more.

"Walk, and nobody has to get hurt," the commander ordered, striding into the fort first. Soren and Ike followed side-by-side, not minding the numerous weapons turned against them. They climbed the slippery stone steps into the fort with their backs straight and shoulders squared.

The inside of the fort was typical of Begnion architecture. Soren noted that the construction was extremely similar to other forts they'd encountered throughout their journeys in Begnion, the courtyard reminiscent of Mugill and the layout of the wings comparable to Flaguerre. The corridors were lined with rich burgundy carpets to stave off the chill of grey stone. Banisters and furniture carved in mahogany brought elegance to the fort, whilst portraits in golden frames added a gaudiness to the environment that Soren associated with Begnion aristocracy. Torches lining the walls burned vigorously enough to warm Soren up a little, but although the corridors were well-lit, he couldn't help but find their glow a bit eerie. All in all, the fort was not the most extravagant one they'd visited on their travels, but it was flashy enough to point to someone of status as its master.

Now that the layout was mapped out in his mind, Soren turned his attention back to their trajectory. His feet had been carrying him idly forward, but he'd made the slight mistake of not looking where they were headed. Glancing around him, he saw that they were being led -still at spearpoint- through a large open area that was a little less-well decorated than the rest. A set of heavy wooden double-doors awaited them on the other side, guarded by a single soldier in heavy armour.

"Lord Aventi, greetings!"

The mercenary commander's voice caught Soren's attention immediately, moreso when their advance stopped in a cacophony of clanking armour and rubbing leather. He turned his head towards the banister looping around the second floor of the room, his eyes finally falling upon the man who'd orchestrated their capture.

He was not what Soren had expected whatsoever.

In his mind, all aristocracy of Begnion looked like Oliver of Tanas, or that wretched Lekain of Gaddos; power-hungry, self-centered, cowardly. The list of unpleasant adjectives went on, but Soren could not associate any of them to the man standing above them, glaring down at their party with a severe frown on his face.

Unlike other lords and dukes, Lord Aventi was tall, broad-shouldered, and bulky, a hulking tower of a man even bigger than Ike. The way he laid a hand on the sword at his hip spoke volumes about how he knew exactly how to wield it. He was dressed in rich cottons and silks, but Soren saw a leather breastplate peeking out from underneath his long, fur-lined cape. The way he held himself made him seem more of a warrior than an aristocrat. Still, Soren knew not underestimate people based on their appearances. Ike seemed to be of the same mind, sizing the man up with his gaze, although he was probably figuring out how to defeat the lord in one-on-one combat. To each their focus, Soren figured.

"Lord Aventi," the mercenary commander continued. "As contracted, we've brought you Lord Ike, general of the ex-Laguz Alliance and commander of the Greil Mercenaries, as well as his traveling companion."

So, their true goal was Ike, with Soren being the collateral damage. That was important information that he carefully stored in the front of his mind as he watched for shifts in the lord's expression. However, there were none, not even a twitch of his lips. There was, however, a tiny squint on his part when his eyes landed on Soren. Soren upheld his gaze proudly, undeterred and unbroken.

Lord Aventi glared at them a few seconds longer, and then turned around to leave. His cape fluttered behind him as he wordlessly made his way out through one of the second-floor corridors, leaving Soren and Ike at the mercy of the mercenaries yet again.

"Chipper man, that one," one of the mercenaries behind Soren snorted as they began walking again.

"Think he's ever laughed a day in his life?" Another one added, the two mercenaries sharing a chuckle.

"Keep your head screwed on right until the mission is over," the commander warned them, nodding to the guard at the door. The guard lifted the heavy iron bar locking the door, and it creaked loudly, ominously as it opened onto a stone staircase winding down.

Dungeons, of course. It didn't take a genius to figure that one out.

Soren went first, probably because the mercenaries wanted most of their lances pointed at Ike's back rather than his. It was slightly offensive, as Soren could probably topple them all in one shot if he had his hands on an Arcwind tome right now.

They descended into the dank bowels of the fort in silence, the staircase soon turning into a tight corridor of wet cobblestone. Cells lined the left side of the corridor, whilst a wall interspersed with low-lit torches and dubious stains from the ceiling stretched out into the darkness beyond what Soren could see. They passed a few empty cells before the mercenary commander pulled out a set of keys, and unlocked one at random. Without him having to give the order, Soren found himself roughly shoved forward, taken by surprise long enough to stumble into the cell. Behind him, Ike began struggling again, and Soren turned around to watch the men scramble to restrain him one way or another.

"Keep walking!" His escort barked at him, shoving him in the shoulder none-too-gently. Soren grunted as he was thrown off balance once more and tripped, falling on his backside rather painfully. He'd been doing a lot of falling so far, it seemed. His body was sure to be bruised.

He righted himself long enough to see the bars clang closed in front of him, the click of the lock sealing his fate. Ike turned to the bars, gripping them tightly and locking eyes with Soren desperately. Pleading for him to be alright. Soren simply nodded at him to reassure him, and watched him be manhandled away.

They did not go far with Ike. A stone wall separated Soren's cell from the others, but even without a visual, he could tell that Ike was being locked into the cell next to his. To his glee, it took them a lot longer to force Ike inside, and judging by the grunts and swears, his friend was not giving them an easy time.

Finally, when the heavy lock clicked shut on Ike's cell as well, the mercenaries let out a collective cheer of success.

"All done!"

"I can't wait to dry myself…"

"Are you kidding? I can't wait for the mead!"

"Won't taste much of the drink if your nose is stuffy, Tybalt!"

"Since when do you drink mead for the taste of it, you pretentious idiot?"

They laughed as they left, their voices carrying them away until they were an echo in the distance. Then, the heavy dungeon doors fell shut behind them, clearly announcing their departure once and for all.

As soon as the door shut, Soren got to work. In the cell next to his, Ike seemed to be trying to call out to him, his voice muffled by the heavy gag. Soren instead focused on stretching his bound hands towards his boot, where he hid a small knife he most often used to cut herbs for potions. They may have taken his tomes away from him, but Soren was grateful that they had not patted him down or undressed him otherwise.

With a bit of acrobatics, he managed to pull the knife out, and the first order of things was to get his gag off. He slipped the blade carefully between the tight cloth and his cheek and sawed, grunting when the blade nicked his skin. A drop of blood began to soak the gag just as the last of the cloth gave way.

Soren did not realize how much he'd missed his freedom until he was taking loud, greedy gasps of air. Ike's muffled voice raised in worry from the other side, and Soren figured he should spare him the concern.

"I'm fine, Ike." His mouth was sore, the corners of his lips chafed red by the gag. He massaged his skin with a wince, careful to tilt the knife away from his eyes. "Come towards me, I'll cut you free."

Ike's voice died down, and then an urgent shuffle came towards Soren. He, too, retreated to the far left of his cell, glad to see that the wall between their cells was thin. Ike's bound wrists, sticking out from behind the bars, were well within his reach. He stretched out towards them with the small knife, but before even getting there, Ike's hands closed upon his.

And he held on firmly, wordless, relieved. Soren was glad that he could not see the expression on his face. He hated to see concern in Ike's eyes, knowing he was the cause for it.

"I'm alright," he repeated in a lower voice, and pulled his hands out of Ike's. "Hold out your wrists."

Ike did as he was told, tilting his palms outwards to give Soren more space to work with. Painstakingly, Soren began to saw through the thick rope, praying not to drop the knife. Strand by strand, the rope began to split, until one end of it was completely sawed through. Soren's palms and elbows hurt from the effort when Ike finally pulled and tugged, shimmying the rope off his wrists. Soren offered the knife through the bars and within a few seconds, Ike was also breathing heavily, loudly, compensating for lost air.

"Man, they didn't have to tie them so tightly," he complained with a grunt, reaching back out to Soren with the knife in his hand. "Gimme yours now."

Soren was freed much more easily than Ike was. When he finally began to rub his bleeding wrists with a sigh of relief, Ike reached out to caress the rope burns.

"Did they hurt you…?" he asked almost hesitantly, running his thumbs lightly across the scabs on Soren's skin. Soren wanted to assure him that he'd had much worse before, but he knew that it wasn't what Ike wanted to hear right now.

"Not any more than when you saw me last," he assured him with a heavy sigh, letting Ike touch him. It was more for his friend's comfort than his, at any rate. "How is your head?"

"Well, it's not bleeding anymore," Ike laughed mirthlessly. "Still hurts, though. Didn't think people still used maces these days."

"Only to club gigantic oafs like you," Soren huffed, drawing an actual chuckle from Ike. It was the warmest thing he could feel at the moment.

They fell silent. Soren could not see Ike, nor could Ike see Soren, but simply seeing and holding his hands felt enough for now. The assurance that they were still together was enough to calm them for now.

"I'm sorry for this," Ike suddenly sighed, pulling his hands away. Soren found himself disappointed at more than one thing. "I wish you didn't have to get dragged in because of me."

"Of course, this is your fault because you're the one who hired those mercenaries with the expressed intention of bringing harm to both of us," Soren rolled his eyes, retreating into his cell and rubbing his wrists.

"… What?"

"I'm being sarcastic." Soren let out a long-suffering sigh. "It's absolutely not your fault, Ike. Don't be stupid and pretend otherwise."

"But… their target was me. They said so!"

"And I wouldn't wish to be anywhere but here with you right now, so kindly do shut up with the self-blame." Soren pursed his lips. "Ike. We're alright. And we're going to get out of this. Please don't dwell on bygones."

"Do you have a plan?" The hope in Ike's lowered voice tugged at Soren's heartstrings.

"Not quite," he regretfully answered. "I've been collecting data since we got captured, but I still don't know enough about this Lord Aventi's intentions to formulate an escape plan."

"Oh." Ike sounded mildly disappointed, but not hopeless. "Well… let me know if I can help. I'm not much compared to your brains, but if you need me to fight something…"

"Do you ever think about anything else than fighting?"

"I think a lot about lunch, too."

"You're incorrigible," Soren snorted, and the sound of his amusement sent Ike into a series of self-satisfied chuckles. It lightened the atmosphere around them, if only a little.

They fell silent once more. The chill of stone seeped through Soren's soaked clothing and sent a violent shiver through him. Nearby, something was dripping rhythmically, probably infiltrate from the downpour outside. There were no windows around, but Soren could hear the violent rain, which meant that they weren't too far underground after all. One of the torches crackled and popped, the shadows flickering ominously at Soren's feet. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose, trying to move away from the pain and the cold a little bit.

"Hey, Soren…?"

It was Ike's voice that dragged him back, lower than Soren had ever heard it. He didn't want to think it, but Ike sounded a bit apprehensive. Soren opened his eyes again, and saw that Ike had extended his left hand towards Soren. It was hanging in mid-air, waiting.

Soren said nothing. However, he did mimic Ike's apparent position by leaning his back against the cell bars, and snaking his right hand through. When he reached Ike's palm and gently grasped his hand, Ike grasped right back, and ran his thumb over his knuckles.

Everything was cold, painful, and uncertain.

But Soren held onto Ike, and somehow, none of it mattered.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…

There was no indication of night or day in this place, and so, Soren had no idea if dawn had broken when they were sent for once again. The cold had forced Soren to retreat into his damp clothing and rub his arms over himself in an attempt to ward it off, and somehow, hypothermia had lulled him into a light sleep. He woke up with his back to the wall and the sound of Ike shuffling in the cell next to him.

"Soren?" he called out, and Soren frowned when the sound of footsteps began to come towards them.

"I'm here," he assured him, then pushed himself up. "Someone's coming."

Ike shuffled wordlessly as well, probably to cover up whatever obvious weaknesses he sported. Soren simply retreated away from Ike, settling himself in the neutral territory that was the middle portion of his cell. He steeled his expression and leaned against the wall behind him, waiting.

The heavy footsteps finally reached him, and Soren locked gazes through the bars with the same man as yesterday- the lord of the fort.

Soren remained silent, issuing a challenge to the lord by upholding his gaze. The man scrutinized him more closely than Soren was comfortable with, trailing his gaze obviously over his thin frame under his damp clothes, his pale skin and limbs racked with tiny shivers, the scars on his wrists and face, the cursed brand on his forehead, his tangled hair, and finally, his piercing glare again.

He moved away from Soren without saying anything, and stopped in front of Ike's cell. Soren did not move, but did close his eyes as to better hear the details of the happenings nearby.

"General Ike." Finally, he spoke. As expected, his voice was deep, gravelly, firm. "I wish we did not have to meet under such circumstances."

"I'm no general, Lord Aventi," Ike replied lightly, although his tone was anything but light. "And these circumstances are of your own creation, so you are the only one to blame."

"They say you are a simple man, but simple enough to mouth me off is perhaps a tad too simple," the man criticized. Soren frowned, itching to put him in his place with the weapons he did not currently wield.

"What is it you want, Lord Aventi?" Ike skipped straight to the point.

"I had you brought here because I am in need of your services."

"Nothing makes me more willing to work for someone than being kidnapped."

"Do refrain from unnecessary commentary," the man grunted. Soren revelled in his apparent annoyance with Ike's attitude. "Let me explain, unless you do not wish for an explanation after all."

Ike's silence paved the way for the rest of the conversation.

"Sir Ike," Lord Aventi continued. "Your reputation precedes you. Your heroic deeds during the Mad King's war and the Goddess war have ranked you as one of the most capable -if not the most capable- warriors in Tellius still alive today. Any man yearning for victory will strive to have you on his side. Of course, I am one of those men."

"I won't do a single thing for you, I hope you know that."

"Duke Persis was one of the many casualties of the Goddess war," Lord Aventi continued, completely ignoring Ike's comment. "Now that order is being brought back to Begnion and the Apostle is orchestrating the reformation of the Senate, a new Duke is to be named. I am one of the two candidates for the position. Lord Tantas, of the nearby lands, is the other candidate. I would be a fool to deny that Lord Tantas has more men, more resources, and more power than I. And so, if I am to become the new Duke of Persis, I must take Lord Tantas down as a first step."

"You want me to lead an army to defeat Lord Tantas in your name," Ike recapitulated.

"Your strength in battle is unrivaled," Lord Aventi hummed in confirmation. "Lord Tantas may have numbers, but I would have unparalleled skill. His men would be nothing but fodder for you to cut down."

"I just want to repeat my question, in case you didn't hear me the first time," Ike sighed loudly, clearly annoyed. Soren clicked his tongue at his casual attitude. Sometimes, Ike still reminded him of the same immature brat who couldn't land a single blow on Greil. "Why in Ashunera's name would I do you any kind of favour?"

"It's not a favour I expect from you, Sir Ike." With those words, the temperature seemed to drop several degrees lower. Soren's eyes flew open at the dangerous edge that had lined his words all of a sudden. "It's a demand, and I expect you to fulfill it."

"What if I don't?"

"Then your companion will die."

Soren saw it coming a mile away, and yet, the words dropped upon his shoulders like a bomb. He was the life being held over Ike's head. He was the burden on Ike's back.

He'd be his downfall.

"Your silence is taken as acquiescence."

"No." Soren let out a heavy breath, knowing to expect Ike's hard-headed response. He was glad for it, really. He did not want to feel like his presence was what caused Ike's defeat. "I do not agree to your terms. You will not force me into another war."

"Are you sure you would jeopardize your companion's life over your stubbornness?" Lord Aventi questioned rhetorically. "Soren, was it? Master tactician at the service of the Greil mercenaries, and later on the primary tactician of the Laguz Alliance. Not to mention, according to my intelligence, your most intimate ally."

Soren flinched at that, hating the way the man said that word. He hadn't wanted to rise to the lord's bait, but he had to do something now that his name was dragged into the situation.

"I would appreciate it you involved me in the decision-making process, Lord Aventi," he provoked deliberately, standing up and walking to the bars. "Not that it would change the final decision."

"Feisty," the man hummed critically. "Shame I could not convince the Fireman to gather information on you, Master Tactician. Third-rate spies have not provided me with enough to quench my curiosity about the closest companion of the Hero of Tellius."

"I would appreciate if you didn't embellish my relationship with Ike," Soren coldly reprimanded. "We merely have a business partnership that stems from our days as mercenaries together. I hope you know that my life is not a proper bargaining chip."

"You say so, and yet…" Lord Aventi trailed off, crossing his arms behind his back pensively. "No matter. I shall find out for myself."

He took a suddenly step towards Soren's cell, and Soren instinctively took a step back, cursing his own weakness. Lord Aventi pulled out a set of keys, which jingled loudly as he undid the lock on Soren's cell.

"Soren?" Ike called, thinly-veiled urgency in his voice. Soren winced, wishing he wouldn't give away Soren's bluff so obviously. Still, he kept his back straight as the man opened the door to his cell and beckoned him out.

With no other choice, Soren strode out in the most dignified manner he could manage whilst his clothes and hair still made him look like a drowned rat. The man put an arm around his shoulder to guide him forward, and Soren disregarded the unwanted contact, instead turning his attention to Ike when he finally saw him.

Ike was at the bars in a second, glancing straight at Soren. Even if he said nothing, his eyes were swimming with worry, darting from the hand gripping Soren's shoulders, to Lord Aventi standing behind, towering two heads above Soren. Soren tried to straighten his shoulders, at least to give an air of strength about him, but it was quickly erased. Quicker than he could react, the hands on his shoulders were on his throat, thumbs pressing on his spine and fingers pressing into his trachea.

Soren belated realized that he could not breathe.

"Soren!" Ike cried out, reaching through the bars almost instinctively. His hand didn't quite reach him.

Panic began to settle in Soren's gut unannounced. He'd always been unafraid of facing death headfirst, especially in Ike's name, but this… this was different. The fear he felt was primal, rearing its head higher the harder Lord Aventi's fingers pressed. He could feel his bounding pulse in his head, his chest rising and falling in shallow gasps that sounded ten times louder in Soren's own ears. He raised his trembling hands to those around his neck, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not pry them off. Instead, he was left weakly clutching and scratching at Lord Aventi's grip, his vision swimming. Unbidden tears rolled off his cheeks, adding to Soren's shame at being caught unaware like this.

"Let him go right now!" Ike demanded, though it sounded distant to Soren's ears. There was ringing around him, Ike's voice becoming more and more indistinct, until Soren felt like he was underwater.

His chest hurt, now rising and falling emptily. Soren tried to kick back but found that his legs were crawling with figurative ants, numb and no longer responsive. His lips felt cold, so, so cold, and no more cries escaped them. He was losing strength in his arms, his last bastion of defense, and in one last show of defiance, he kept clawing weakly at Lord Aventi's hands. Even when his vision went dark and all sounds were drowned in ringing, he scrabbled desperately, until his arms, too, fell to the side.

As soon as they did, Lord Aventi released him, and Soren didn't even feel himself hit the floor.

He let out a horrifying gasp for breath, hands reaching for his throat as if to make sure it was unobstructed. His heart ran a thousand miles a minute, loud and jarring in his ears, a cacophony accompanied by his own desperate gasps. Tears now flowed freely onto the dirty cobblestone, and when Soren opened his eyes, he realized he was face down. A part of him still felt like he was being strangled, phantom hands constricting his airways even when nothing remained.

"Soren! Soren!"

Sobs escaped his lips. His first reaction was to be ashamed, but if he could sob, he could also breathe. It was all that mattered right now. Between hungry gasps and relieved sobbing, he still heard Ike calling out to him repeatedly, and in the back of his mind, knew for certain that his bluff had been called.

"Soren, please!" Ike, too, sounded on the verge of breaking. Soren hated that he'd been the cause for his undoing. He glanced up very briefly, just enough to see Ike's hand outstretched towards him through the bars. His vision was too blurry still to see Ike's face, but his open hand, clutching desperately at thin air, was all Soren needed to focus on.

Admitting it to himself made it feel so much more real, but Soren was terrified. And so, against every logical thought begging him to refrain from reaching out, he shakily tried to push himself on his elbows to crawl closer to Ike.

A boot came down on his back, and Soren collapsed right back to the ground, hitting the stone painfully. For a terrifying few seconds, breath escaped him again, and Soren let out an indistinct cry of protest. He didn't have enough energy to move again after that. His arms and legs felt like they didn't even belong to him anymore. Even his sobbing quieted down to silent tears as his body gave up, and his mind began to retreat into itself.

"Enough!" Ike demanded. Soren latched onto his voice, no matter how desperate it was, and used it as an anchor to stay conscious. "Enough of this! I will comply with your demands, as long as Soren is harmed no further."

That should have been the end of it, but somehow, it wasn't. The boot moved off of Soren's back, but Soren was too tired even to feel relief.

"I appreciate your cooperation, Sir Ike," Lord Aventi answered as flatly as he carried out most of his conversation. As if he hadn't just strangled a man to near-death for a simple show of power. "However, I would like to put a hold on our deal until I confirm something else."

"What do you want me to do?" Ike asked, slowly regaining his composure with every full breath that expanded Soren's ribcage.

"Not you, I'm afraid." Lord Aventi's voice came closer, and Soren had a brief second of instinctive panic when his large hand gripped his upper arm. "I have a few questions I want answered regarding your companion before I seal the deal."

"You said you'd leave him alone if I agreed!" Despite Ike's protests, Lord Aventi pulled Soren up, with the same ease with which he'd pick up a dropped sword. Soren did his best to straighten himself out, if only to reclaim the shards of his broken pride, but he could barely hold his own weight on his legs. He hated that Lord Aventi's grip was the only thing keeping him from stumbling to the ground again. If given the choice, he would rather stay on the ground than in this man's grasp.

"Fear not, Sir Ike," Lord Aventi assured him calmly, not that he could make many assurances at this point. "I will not hurt him unless he is fully uncooperative. I would simply like to ask him a few questions."

"Then do it here."

"Privately."

"Don't you dare take him away!" Ike yelled at him, equal parts furious and desperate. Soren hated that he sounded like that because of him.

He took a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly. His mind already felt a lot clearer with each passing second.

"I will be fine," he finally announced, his voice low and raspy. His tears had dried on his cheeks, and his hair clasps had slipped off sometime during the whole ordeal, so that when he finally looked up at Ike, he did so with his loose hair obscuring half his face. He steeled his expression, reflecting Ike's fury in his own eyes.

Seeing that Soren still had fight left in him, Ike seemed to back off a little, although the blazing concern in his eyes did not fade even a little.

"Soren…" Ike whispered to him, an inquiry without verbalizing.

"I will return shortly, Ike." Even if his strength was for naught but for show, Soren still found himself able to bear weight. Once he was sure he would not make a fool of himself, he forcefully tugged his arm out of Lord Aventi's grip, returning his body to his own command. His legs still felt weak, but the more he regained breath, the more he regained strength.

Ike did not seem convinced, but he didn't say anything else.

"If you are done wasting our time, please lead the way, milord," Soren cheekily added, turning around and taking a few shaking steps away from the cell. Insultingly enough, Lord Aventi did not stop him, as if he was 110 percent certain that he could stop any attempt to escape or fight back.

"We shan't be long," the man informed Ike lightly, and followed Soren towards the exit.

Once they were out of the dungeon, the heavy iron bar fell back upon the double doors like an ultimatum with its usual horrendous creaking. Soren did not waste time in analyzing his surroundings, drinking in every single detail of every room and corridor they crossed. The walk was spent in silence. If Lord Aventi noticed what Soren was up to, he didn't comment.

After navigating the richly-decorated hallways, they finally arrived in front of a door that was as non-descript as the others.

"This is my office," Lord Aventi announced, motioning at the door. "Please enter."

Without much of a choice to make, Soren entered, eyes falling across the most ordinary, if not disorganized, office he'd ever seen. There was a desk in the center, piled high with books and papers, and a small library in the back. A couch was set in front of a coffee table, an old plate with remnants of a meal rotting away on the fine mahogany. Best of all, and to Soren's much-needed relief, a window gave out onto the courtyard from behind the desk, bathing the entire office in the soft sunlight of dawn.

"I would like to strike a deal with you, Master Tactician," Lord Aventi immediately began, closing the door behind them.

"Like you struck a deal with Ike?" Soren mocked, his voice still raspy from strangulation.

"Less threats involved this time, because I feel that you are quite the erudite man, and will know to comply with me." He sounded so sure of himself that Soren could not help but sneer.

"You insult my intelligence, Lord Aventi," he hissed, but stopped short when his throat pained him.

"Not at all. In fact, I am in need of your intelligence," Lord Aventi continued, unimpressed. "See, I am the sole manager of my campaign against Lord Tantas. However, I am more of a military man. I prefer to busy myself with cutting down those in front of me than planning further than the present moment. In that regard, I am afraid that my campaign is lacking."

"You want to recruit me to manage your campaign," Soren stated the obvious, frowning when Lord Aventi's lips twitched upward.

"Of course."

"And what do I receive in return?" Soren challenged, despite being very well aware of his position.

"Well, I shan't send Sir Ike onto the battlefield if you take his place in my office." Lord Aventi seemed amused by Soren's challenge.

"Do you really believe that Ike is afraid of the battlefield?" Soren scoffed. "If cutting down men is all it takes to secure our freedom, we would be gone by dawn tomorrow. Your offer is hollow."

"You interrupted me before I could state my second clause," Lord Aventi continued. "Secondly, should you accept to manage my campaign, I shan't harm Sir Ike."

"What makes you think you could harm him? Ike is stronger than your petty threats."

"Shall I reformulate? For each job well done, I shall stave off my Feral Ones for one more day," Lord Aventi proposed. Soren blood ran cold at the mention of the damned laguz. "They have not had beorc prey in so long… If would make them so happy to pounce upon a man trapped in a small space."

"You are a monster," Soren narrowed his eyes. "To even keep Feral Ones like you would keep a pet… you disgust me."

"Pass your judgment as you will. It is of no consequence to me," Lord Aventi shrugged. "Now. Do we have a deal?"

Soren glanced around him. Spending his days in an office would stimulate his mind much more than spending them in the dungeons, and with more access to resources, he could better plan their escape. It was a no-brainer, in reality.

"I accept your proposition," he rasped, locking gazes defiantly with him. "I'll manage your campaign if you guarantee Ike's safety."

"I'm glad we could reach an understanding," Lord Aventi clapped his hands, pleased. "Now. Do feel free to leave. A guard is waiting outside to return you to your cell. I will make arrangements, and you will begin work in the mid-morning today."

"Then, I shall take my leave of you." With one last show of defiance, Soren shakily strode past Lord Aventi, unlocking the door. As he did so, however, his captor's hand fell upon his shoulder once more, halting him in his tracks. Soren did not turn, although he did instinctively tense when the man trailed his hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck. Soren felt his heart beating loudly at the point of contact between Lord Aventi's hand and his spine. He did not turn, unwilling to let the man feel his fear.

"Master Tactician," Lord Aventi began once more in a voice lower, and more dangerous than before. "You are a smart man. I know you shan't mistake my mercy for complacency. Any wrong move, and I will have Sir Ike's head before you can apologize."

"There is nothing you can do to him that will make him yield to you," Soren hissed, more for himself than for the lord. However, he was heard in the deathly still silence of the office.

"Very true. You, on the other hand, Master Tactician, have the power to destroy him." A shiver ran down Soren's spine unbidden when the man leaned in to whisper against his ear. "I do wonder what would happen if I forced upon you the very same drug that makes sub-humans into beasts. Would your filthy sub-human blood yield to it? You call me a monster, but there is no more disgusting monster than the one you see in every mirrored surface. The Brand on your forehead tells of a beast locked inside of you, and should I awaken it, you can be certain that Sir Ike will be the first, and the last, to see it."

Soren saw red.

"When I get out of here, I will enjoy ripping you to shreds," he growled in an ironically animalistic fashion, roughly pulling away from the man's hold and slamming the door open. "Your days are numbered, Aventi. I shall see to it in the end."

He walked away with his back turned, letting each one of Lord Aventi's laughs add fuel to the flame of vengeance raging inside of him.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…

As soon as Soren crossed the last step of the stone staircase, he heard Ike call out to him.

"Soren?" He sounded hesitant. "Soren, is that you?"

"I'm here," Soren assured him, a series of coughs cutting him off when he spoke too loudly, irritating his bruised throat.

"You okay?" Ike called out, just as hesitant, if not more.

"Fine," Soren answered between coughs, walking forward. The guard, unsure of what to do, simply followed.

Taking advantage of his insecurity, Soren tried to make himself look self-assured, and strode as confidently as he could towards Ike's cell. He stopped in front of the door and waited for the guard to catch up, all whilst Ike jumped up from where he sat to come towards him.

"Soren!" He'd been saying his name a lot today. Soren figured it wasn't a bad thing. He just wished it didn't have to be in these circumstances.

"Stand back from the door, prisoner," the guard warned. Ike raised his eyebrow at him, making Soren crack a smirk. If Ike wanted, the moment the guard opened the door, he could take him down. However, with the dungeon doors locked from the outside, it would be impossible for them to escape. For now, they both had to comply. Ike stepped back. At least the guard had fallen for Soren's act.

The guard unlocked the cell door, and shoved Soren unceremoniously inside. Ike rushed forward to catch him by the upper arms, his grip firm, yet warm, unlike Lord Aventi's. He searched Soren's eyes for any sign of him being in pain, but Soren hushed his concerns with a slow blink and a soft nod.

They waited for the guard to finish locking the door and head off before even moving. They did not speak until the dungeon doors slammed shut in the distance, and at that moment, everything seemed to fall apart.

"Oh gods." With a sharp intake of breath, Ike crushed Soren to his chest, enveloping him entirely in his arms. He smelled of sweat and blood, his clothes still damp, but Soren clung on for dear life because he had never been so relieved to be near him. "Oh gods, Soren… I am so sorry."

"I'm not going to tolerate your self-flagellation right now, Ike," Soren groaned, pulling away lightly to glare at him. "I'm rather tired, if you don't mind."

"I'm going to kill him," Ike swore under his breath, his eyes speaking of a murderous intent that Soren very rarely saw in Ike. The last time he'd felt something comparable emanating from him, it had been in regard to the Black Knight. "I'm going to slay him for doing this to you, I swear it to you."

"Ike…" Soren gasped sharply when Ike's large hand fell across his throat. His touch, however, was feather-soft across his skin, lining what Soren assumed were the bruises blooming across his neck. It felt uncomfortable, but Soren trusted Ike more than anyone else in the world. So, he closed his eyes. "I'm alright. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You say it like you asked for it," Ike let out a disbelieving scoff, and then dragged Soren backwards, towards the wall. "Come, sit. You've gone through a lot since we got captured."

Soren sat when Ike did, not giving much thought to their position and simply slipping into his arms again. It was warm, and the chill of the dungeon was beginning to creep into Soren's bones again. Ike was a furnace on good days, so it was pleasant to simply lay his head down against his shoulder and listen to his heartbeat. Ike busied himself with undoing his tattered cape, and then swung it over Soren's body. Once he was done fidgeting, he wrapped his arms around Soren's shoulders and waist, pressing him close. It was just as much for himself as it was for Soren.

"I struck a deal with him," Soren mumbled, relishing in the safety he felt, encased in Ike's firm grip. "If I work for him, he won't hurt you."

"What!?" Ike exclaimed, genuinely shocked. "You're an idiot, Soren! I'm the one who should be trying to get you out of his nasty hands."

"Please be a little more appreciative of my initiatives," Soren huffed sarcastically. "He owns Feral Ones, Ike. And by the way he spoke of them, we are currently sharing out quarters with them. You may be a talented warrior, but even you can't do much against a feral laguz without your weapons." He did not mention anything about Lord Aventi's knowledge of him being Branded, if only because he didn't want to talk about it.

"I'll find a way out of this, I promise…" Ike sighed, letting his shoulders relax in momentary defeat. "I'm sorry, Soren. I just want to protect you as best as I can."

"I know," Soren nodded against his shoulder. "Me, too."

They fell silent, bodies entwined to stave off the cold and the insecurity about them.

"In fact…" Soren suddenly picked up the conversation again, his tone contemplative and determined. "I might have an escape plan in mind already."

"I knew you would," Ike chuckled, and Soren hid his smile against his clothes, letting the gentle vibrations of Ike's laughter push the tension out of his muscles.

Rocked by the rhythmic rise and fall of Ike's chest and soothed by the lullaby of his heartbeat, Soren was unsurprised that he dozed off at some point. At least sleep gave him reprieve for the time being.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…

Soren was sent for in the mid-morning, as Lord Aventi had promised. A young woman in a simple terracotta dress came to bring them a breakfast of porridge and day-old bread, after which she escorted Soren out of the dungeons. Ike let him go, trusting Soren to know what he was doing out there in enemy territory.

Soren knew exactly what he was doing.

The woman did not speak much, which Soren appreciated. She led him through the same hallways towards the office, where Soren was awaited by a soldier with a spear standing at the door.

"Come with me," the soldier indicated, opening the door.

The first thing that Soren noticed about the office was the redecoration that had been done. The desk was still in the middle of the room, although the nearby tablets of books and files had been pushed closer to it. The couch and coffee table had been pushed back to make space for them around the desk. The chair, too, had gone from a regular wooden chair to an uncomfortable-looking iron one. Soren briefly wondered why the change, until he noticed that it had been bolted to the floor.

"Sit." The guard issued the command like he was ordering around a pet, and Soren bristled. Biting back an unpleasant remark, he did as he was told, facing the messy desk in front of him.

The clanking of metal brought his attention back to the guard. His eyes widened lightly when he noticed him clipping a long set of chain links to a hoop on the chair.

"What are you doing?" he couldn't help but ask, unsure if he wanted an answer or not.

"Your work in this room will be unsupervised, because of which Lord Aventi has asked that you be restrained," the soldier explained lightly.

"I can't very well work on reports if you chain my wrists, you know," Soren huffed, watching the man set up his contraption.

"No, your wrists will be free," the guard assured him, not that it was very reassuring. "Face the front."

Rolling his eyes, Soren did as ordered, instead glancing at the papers strewn on the desk. At first glance, most of them seemed to be lists, or tables with figures in them. The usual work he did back with the Mercenaries, it seemed.

His attention taken by the reports, he did not feel the guard reach out with the chain until it was too late. A cry of surprise escaped him when cold metal suddenly clamped around his throat, morphing into horror when Soren realized that his restraint was a collar.

"Take it off," he blanched, tugging at it. "Take this off right now!"

"Milord demands you be restrained as such," the guard shook his head, unapologetic. "You'd better be grateful he let you out of your cage in the first place, Crimean dog."

"Are you mad!?" Soren protested, his breathing picking up when he realized that he wasn't going to be released. "I can't breathe with this on!"

"Then, perish," the guard spat, walking off.

"Stop!"

Soren made a move to get up and go after him, but as soon as he moved, the chains rattled, reminding him that he couldn't go very far. He gritted his teeth against the anger and the embarrassment rolling off him in waves, and tried to kill the guard with his eyes until he had left the room, although that plan didn't quite work out for obvious reasons.

Once he was alone, Soren tried to recollect his thoughts and breathe deeply. The metal collar was restrictive, but if he breathed normally, it did not substantially constrict his throat. Lord Aventi had probably purposefully picked a collar versus an ankle cuff, if only to remind him of the power he held over him. It changed nothing in Soren's opinion. He would still kill the man with his own bare hands if he had the chance.

The collar still had his heart racing, but Soren had better things to attend to than his own anxiety. Namely, he wanted to see what kind of resources he had to work with in here, in order to orchestrate his master plan. If all went well, they'd be out by tomorrow.

The shelves held books about Begnion history, politics, religion, and culture, as well as some miscellaneous topics. Nothing about magic, Soren quickly noted, although if Lord Aventi was even a fraction as cunning as he made it seem, he would deliberately have removed anything related to magic from Soren's reach. He was unsurprised, but undeterred. Books and tomes weren't the only things that could be used to spellcast. Soren had gotten this principle beaten into him so many times by the old sage that trained him that he would not dare forget it in his lifetime.

There was nothing to note in the rest of his equipment. He had plenty of quills and inkwells to work with, as well as blank parchments of varying sizes. An abacus sat on the edge of the desk, behind the piles of paperwork to be done.

Soren figured he may as well get started, if only to keep up appearances. Picking up the file at the top of the pile, he sat down and tried to ignore the chain swinging heavily across his back as he got to work.

It was a staff list of the fort that came up first. A wonderful place to start, Soren figured, as he immediately began to memorize the repartition of Aventi's soldiers and their guard shifts.

Soren switched between acquiring intelligence from the lord's reports and working on his escape plan. The first order of business was to provide himself with a weapon, which would be easier than providing Ike with a weapon. His memory was impeccable, especially in regard to things he encountered on a daily basis, so he was pleasantly surprised when he found it ridiculously easy to recall the dictations of the ancient tongue that were inscribed in his most basic wind tome. He'd been casting basic wind spells since he was practically a toddler, and he could easily picture the script of the spell in his mind's eye. Afterwards, it was just a matter of copying down what he remembered on a piece of parchment.

The first wind spell was completed two hours later, as Soren worked on and off on it until the page was full of ancient language runes, front and back. With a quick listen to make sure no guards were outside his door, Soren read through the spell to make sure it was as he remembered, and then put his right hand on the page.

If writing down the spell came from his memory, then reciting the spell practically came from his bones. He could cast a basic wind spell in his sleep if he had to, and so was unsurprised when he felt the ether in the air around him beginning to condense in response to his muttered spellcast. Since the runes weren't part of a tome, with the extra runes and figures to amplify the power of the cast magic, Soren felt that it wouldn't be as powerful. Still, he could cast the spell, and that's all he needed for his plan to succeed.

Commanding the winds was second nature, and when Soren finished reciting the spell, almost immediately, the parchment disintegrated into dust. In its stead, familiar, green-tinted wind magic whirled around Soren, ruffling his clothes and his hair. He couldn't help the contented smile that lit up his expression as the wind dried off the last of the rain clinging to his clothing, and then condensed into his outstretched left palm. Soren crushed the condensed wind in his hand, and the spell dissipated.

He let his clothes settle, and then smirked.

Everything was going according to plan.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…

For lunch, the same woman as before brought Soren some dried fruits and tough strips of meat, as well as a carafe of cold water. Soren had never been too fond of food, but he didn't realize how thirsty he'd been until he took his first sip from the carafe. He also hadn't taken a look at the budget for consumables yet, but he didn't need to see it to bet that this wasn't a common meal for prisoners.

"Umm…" he was drawn out of his reverie by the voice of the woman, who still hadn't left.

"What do you want?" he asked, not in the mood for pleasantries. She was probably one of the maids, curious for gossip about the prisoners recently brought in.

"I… I was just wondering if there's anything else I could provide for you," she asked expectantly, fidgeting with her hands.

"No. Leave." Never one to mince words, Soren returned to his work.

"Oh." The woman seemed disappointed. "Well, if there's ever anything you need, send for me. My name is Alenna."

Soren paid her no heed, and eventually, the woman seemed to realize that she was not wanted. With a sigh, she retreated out of the room, leaving Soren alone again.

After a while, Soren instinctively reached out for one of the dried apricots, although as soon as he picked it up, he dropped it again. Glaring at the food, he wondered if this was another ploy on Lord Aventi's part. If he had laced his plate with the feral drug, and Soren ate it… well, he wasn't quite sure what the drug did to a Branded like him, but seeing what it did to full-blooded laguz, he wasn't eager to find out.

He forwent his lunch and instead focused on transcribing his second wind spell parchment. It was easier than transcribing the first one earlier, as the symbols were now fresh in his mind.

It was perhaps an hour later that the door opened again, letting Lord Aventi into Soren's workspace. Careful not to let his expression give anything away, Soren calmly stored his spell parchment into a random folder, and then pulled out another report at random.

"How goes it, Master Soren?" Lord Aventi greeted, drawing nearer to him and making Soren feel like a caged animal the closer the came. "Are the amenities to your liking?"

"The leash is a nice touch. Not many people are twisted enough to treat fellow humans like animals," Soren grunted.

"But you're not entirely human, are you now?" The thinly-veiled glee in the man's voice set Soren on edge. He hated being in the same enclosed space as this unpredictable nobleman.

"What is it you want now?" Soren cut straight to the chase, wishing he would leave.

"I was just coming in to check how you were doing." Picking up one of the reports at random from Soren's desk, Lord Aventi ran his gaze across it. "My Feral Ones hunger for sport, you know. I just wanted to know if I was to deprive them of their needs for one more day."

"Well, I did fix the entirety of your weapon inventory in under half a day, so I'd better hope so," Soren grumbled, eyes fixed on his current report.

"Lovely. Looks like you're doing well." Lord Aventi reached out to grab a dried prune off of Soren's plate, popping it into his mouth. "Why haven't you had lunch, Master Soren? After my maids apparently provided you with… more than adequate sustenance."

"None of your business."

"It wouldn't do to starve and let Sir Ike rot in the dungeons on his own," the man chided as if Soren was a child. "I haven't poisoned your food, if you were wondering."

"Good to know."

"I haven't laced it with feral drug either."

That had Soren freezing, just long enough for Lord Aventi to notice the change in his posture.

"Sensitive spot?" he mocked, picking an almond from his plate and flicking it into his mouth. "I wouldn't use such an underhanded method with you, Master Tactician. After all, if you take the feral drug, I want you to be painfully aware of every second of it."

Soren did not dignify him with a response. He refused to rise to the bait.

"If you displease me and merit yourself the drug, then I will have my guards hold you down and I will personally make you swallow it." The threats had returned, and Soren gritted his teeth so he wouldn't answer. The page he held crinkled under his fingers as he gripped a bit tighter.

Still he said nothing, instead opting to scribble some insignificant comment in the margin of his report, if only to get his mind away from Aventi.

"I see you're focused on the task at hand. Very well, Master Tactician. I shall leave you to it."

Soren held back the exasperated sigh building up inside of him, dipping his quill back into the inkwell.

"I shall return in the evening to check on you. Do strive to fulfill your fair share of work," Lord Aventi warned him, opening the door to the office. Soren still didn't respond to him, relishing in the defeated sigh that he let out before leaving.

Alone once again, he continued to work on his report for a little longer before he pulled a blank parchment out of the pile and began to copy down a new wind spell. Lord Aventi's visits left him disturbed at his very core, but he refused to let the man affect him so much. He had to focus without ever giving in.

Once in a while, he popped a piece of meat or fruit in his mouth, and then put a handful of them into the folds of his robes. Ike would be worried that he'd been gone longer than expected, but would easily be placated with food.

...-…-…-…-…-…-…

The maid from before -dark hair, bright eyes, terracotta dress; Alenna- returned twice more before dinner, once to remove Soren's now-empty plate and another to offer him a chamber pot. Both times, Soren refused to talk to her, hoping that she would be deterred by his refusal to make conversation.

When she brought dinner, though, she seemed to have a different angle.

"I will be bringing dinner to your companion in the dungeons next," she informed him, setting down a platter of warm vegetable soup and bread with cheese in front of him. "Is there anything you'd like me to tell him?" Soren was beginning to suspect that the maid wasn't doing things entirely by-the-book, but this took the cake.

"What is it with your rebellious streak, madam?" he asked, rhetorical. She opened her mouth to answer, but he kept going. "Has your master sent you to spy on me? Are you pretending to be nice in order to pry secrets from me? Gain an advantage? Find some other form of leverage?"

"Nothing of the sort, Master Soren." She seemed a bit offended by the suggestions. "I simply don't see things in the same angle as my… master." She made a face at her choice of words. "You and Sir Ike may be under his captivity presently, but I am attending to both of you and I choose to do things differently than Lord Aventi."

Soren didn't quite believe her, even if she seemed sincere. He'd had too many people abuse his trust to believe her so quickly. Huffing, he turned to his plate and eyed the food with distaste.

"Then prove your good will to me," he challenged, pushing the platter away from himself, back towards her. "Take my platter as well to Ike. He has appetite for both of us."

"Master Soren, you must eat something, at the very least," she protested, but Soren silenced her with the wave of a hand.

"Don't patronize me. If you really do want to make yourself useful, do as I say and take the platter to Ike. That's all."

"Fine." She puffed her cheeks, crossing her arms in a surprising show of character. She didn't seem all that meek anymore, somehow carrying a regal air about her. That caught Soren's attention, but just as he began to believe that she was not who she pretended to be, she whisked the platter off the table again. "I shall return to attend to your needs after the dinner hour has passed. Good evening, Master Soren."

She left, and Soren returned to his work, unbothered. He had finished copying four pages of spells, and wasn't sure how many he needed to get him through their escape. He wanted to make as many as he possibly could before he was sent back to the cell. He didn't want to postpone their escape another day because he hadn't been fast enough in his writing. He'd spent two years of his life learning to write the ancient tongue fluently, two years in which every mistake warranted a ruler to the fingers. He could do this.

Focused on his task, he didn't notice when the door opened again, only realizing too late that the maid- Alenna- had returned, and that she was staring at the runes curiously.

"What is it?" Soren snapped, putting the runes to the side to at least try and take her attention off of them. His heart skipped a beat; if she told Lord Aventi about the runes, he was in for a world of trouble. Alenna only seemed curious, though, not malicious.

"What were those things you were writing?" she asked. "They were pretty."

"It's none of your business," Soren frowned at her. "Why have you returned?"

"Ah." She pursed her lips, and set on the desk the bowl of broth and noodles she was holding in her hands. Soren remembered that it was the same bowl that she'd brought him earlier. "Umm… Sir Ike ate the vegetables in the soup and told me to bring the broth to you. He said you had an easier time eating food that took little effort."

It was a considerate gesture, especially since Ike generally wasn't an overt fan of vegetables. The poor man was probably starving, though. He usually ate the equivalent of two regular men, so a bit of bread and cheese was sure not to sate him.

Alenna was still waiting for something, it seemed. She had not moved; not to report the communications between Soren and Ike, not to warn her master about Soren's strange side-activities, not to do anything but fidget in her place.

"Thank you," Soren finally sighed, figuring that if she hadn't pulled any strange moves so far, she wouldn't pull any right now. He reached for the bowl of soup, almost cold at this point, and took a small sip. It only served to remind him of Oscar's cooking, which was easily a hundred times better.

"It's my pleasure, Master Soren." Alenna seemed pleased with herself, clapping her hands together lightly before she bowed to him. "Enjoy your meal!"

That was overdoing it a little, and Soren found himself annoyed at her antics. She was easily older than him, and yet she behaved like a young girl. It touched his nerves a little. Yet, he withheld a rude comment he would have let loose at anybody else, and let Alenna leave with the impression that she'd done a good job.

He returned to his rune transcription, twirling his wrist when it began to ache. He was able to finish a fifth page and store it into the folds of his robes, next to the dried apricots, before he moved onto some of Lord Aventi's work. He hadn't done much of that, and he still had appearances to keep up.

He slaved on with his incredibly dull work. The work that Lord Aventi had assigned to him was elementary, not even a challenge to any remotely experienced military manager, let alone someone like Soren. Soon, the sun began to fall from the horizon, and Soren began to squint at the writing on the pages. His vision felt blurry and his eyes burned. The collar and chain felt heavier with every passing minute. Soren's shoulders and back hurt from spending his day on the uncomfortable iron chair. Accumulated exhaustion from last night hit him in the face like a ton of bricks at some point, and before he knew it, he was pillowing his head on his crossed arms for a quick nap.

He didn't usually give in to exhaustion like this during work hours, but he couldn't care less about accomplishing anything for the man who'd mistreated his only friend so badly. He let his eyes slide shut with a sigh of relief, and steadied his breathing.

It felt like he'd only just drifted off into a dreamless sleep when he was suddenly pulled out of it with the unpleasant sensation that he was drowning. Gasping for air, he sat up, reaching for his throat and finding the iron collar still in place. However, the next second, he became aware of a presence behind him, and turned to come face to face with Lord Aventi's hulking figure shadowed by the fallen twilight outside. His breath hitched again in surprise, especially when he saw that his chain was twirled around Lord Aventi's hand.

"I apologize for the rude awakening." Nobody had ever sounded as unapologetic as he sounded right now, and Soren had gotten many false apologies in his short lifetime. "I simply figured I would come and check on your progress, but imagine my surprise when I found you slacking off instead."

"I have done plenty of work for today," Soren grunted, grasping his chain to give himself a bit of loose length. "I cannot reorganize your entire army on the first day. I spent most of my time getting familiar with your units and budgets. Any tactician worth his salt knows that gathering data is the first step, and that making plans is the second."

"I suppose I will be the judge of that. If you are certain that your work has been satisfactory, then it would be my pleasure to return you to your cell. There's someone who's quite eager to see you."

"Then let us call it a day," Soren confidently answered, standing up. The parchments folded in his robes scraped lightly against each other, and Soren hoped to Ashunera that Lord Aventi did not hear them when he walked.

His captor did not seem to react, though, instead reaching out and unlocking the clasp on the back of Soren's neck with a tiny key. To Soren's immense relief, the collar fell away with a jingle of metal, and he stepped away from the cursed thing as quickly as he could.

"You didn't like it?" Lord Aventi mocked, striding behind him. "I thought it made you look quite in your element, filthy half-blooded sub-human."

Soren did not dignify the taunt with a response, striding out of the dark office with his head held high. The torches in the hallways had been lit up already, casting the same eerie glow across the stone walls as last night. Soren self-assuredly paved the way towards the dungeons, holding himself so confidently that the guard at the dungeon entrance looked at him strangely.

"Let him through," Lord Aventi ordered in light amusement when the guard looked at him for confirmation. The bar creaked offensively as it was lifted, and Soren strode into the dungeons as if they were his kingdom.

As soon as his footsteps echoed in the cobblestone corridor below, Ike's voice rang out again.

"Soren?"

Soren did not reply, if only because Lord Aventi was watching his every move. He strode forward, and Ike did not call again, until he reached the cell. He was happy to see that Ike seemed more alert when he'd failed to answer his call.

"Reunited at last," Lord Aventi hummed, unlocking the cell door. Soren said nothing, holding Ike's inquisitive gaze until he was allowed to stride in. Ike did not rise to meet him, a good strategic move in Soren's opinion, as any show of emotion could be used against them at this point.

"Good night, Lord Aventi," Soren finally dismissed their captor in a cheeky maneuver. Lord Aventi seemed to understand his defiant intent and frowned. His sword clinked when he shifted to put his hand on the hilt.

"Good night, Master Tactician. I will take a look at your work tonight. You'd better hope that it is adequate." The threat sounded more like a promise, coming from him, but both Ike and Soren ignored him, watching him leave without exchanging any more false pleasantries.

They were careful to wait until Lord Aventi's footsteps had disappeared behind the heavy wooden gate before turning to one another. Ike finally rose, approaching Soren to take a better look at him in the torchlight.

"Soren," he greeted in a hushed whisper. "How are you?"

"Been better. Been worse." Noncommittal as always.

"Wait…" Ike's hand went to his throat, and Soren shivered automatically when his fingers dragged across his rough skin. "These are scabs." He sounded alarmed, hastily gripping Soren's arm. "Soren, what did he do to you? These weren't here this morning."

"It's nothing, Ike. I was just doing paperwork all day." Soren averted his gaze, expecting Ike not to let the subject drop.

"Did you get a dozen papercuts on your neck, Soren? Tell me what he did. Did he touch you again…?"

"No." Soren raised his gaze reassuringly to Ike, pushing his hand off his arm softly. "I was restrained by a metal collar and chain. It must have rubbed my skin raw throughout the day."

"Soren…" There was no pity in Ike's eyes, but it wasn't hard to imagine it. Soren hated the thought.

"Drop it," he muttered. "I've had worse. And back then, I didn't have you to return to. So this…" he ran his fingers over his scabbed, bruised throat self-consciously. "This is nothing, Ike."

Ike sighed, and Soren recognized it as a sigh of defeat.

"Here, I've brought you some snacks." Just to get Ike's mind off the gruesome topic, he reached into his pocket, cupping out all the dried fruits, dried meats and nuts to offer them to Ike.

"Oh, apricots," Ike beamed, picking out the small orange fruit with glee and popping it in his mouth. "Yum. I'm starving."

"After you had double portions at dinner?" Soren teased, both of them retreating into their corner against the back wall to share the snack.

"Double portions of something tiny is still a small portion," Ike noted wisely, tearing a strip of dried beef in half rather savagely. Soren was suddenly hit with the mental image of a feral laguz ripping into Ike in the same manner.

Nausea roiled in his gut, and the discomfort must've showed on his face because Ike immediately caught on.

"Something wrong?"

"No. I'm just exhausted." It was not entirely a lie; Soren could probably sleep for a whole day after this ordeal. But right now, he had other things to deal with. "Look, Ike. I've got our escape plan."

"I'm listening." Ike's expression turned serious, the same expression he held when he listened to Soren's tactical briefings before a battle.

"See these?" Soren pulled the crumpled parchments out of his sleeve, waving the five sheets in front of Ike. "They're wind spells."

"Where'd you find a tome in this place? How did Aventi let you have access to a tome, even?"

"They're not from a tome, which is the only problem," Soren corrected. "I transcribed them myself, from memory. I tested one out earlier, though, and it works. It's just a bit weaker than a standard wind spell because it doesn't have all the amplifying properties of an accompanying tome."

Ike plucked one sheet out of his hand to examine it in the penumbra of the torches. He looked quite perplexed, especially when he handed it back to Soren.

"You wrote that?" he seemed so confused by the prospect that Soren had learned to understand an ancient language as his weapon of choice. Soren didn't correct him on the fact that he understood the ancient tongue long before he understood the beorc common tongue. "Holy Ashera. That's… that's impressive."

"Not really. They're just low-level wind spells that I've been casting since before I spoke any tongues at all," Soren shrugged. "Anyway. My point is that one of us has a weapon now. All we need to do is get you a weapon as well. My suggestion is tomorrow morning. When the maid girl- Alenna- comes to get me, I will ask her to let you out as well. She seemed quite cooperative earlier. If worse comes to worst, we could just lock her in a cell to prevent her from telling. Anyway, first guard I see will get the full brunt of a spell, and hopefully, he'll be carrying a sword that he wouldn't mind if we took."

"Please don't get me a spear," Ike huffed, popping a raisin in his mouth idly. "Oscar has tried so hard to teach me, but in all these long years, I still haven't gotten the hang of them. They're just so long! And way too light!"

"It depends on the unit's fighting style," Soren corrected in amusement, crunching on an almond. "You have a heavier style focused around brute force and technique, which makes a sword or an axe your weapon of choice. Oscar likes to fight on his mount, which gives him an affinity for lighter weapons that he can wield with greater accuracy than power, such as spears."

"What about Kieran?"

"Kieran fights mounted with his axe out of sheer enthusiasm and strength of will. Nothing else."

That drew a laugh from Ike, and he leaned into Soren to bump their shoulders together. It was an innocent moment to share, and Soren found that he wasn't willing to pull away, even when Ike's laughter died down, even when the food in their cupped palms ran out, even when he remembered their current circumstances.

"Here," Soren started, standing up. "Stand up. You're still a bit damp from the rain and you must be freezing."

"Have been all day, but thanks for noticing," Ike teased, standing up nonetheless.

Soren grabbed one of the five pages he had hidden in his robes and put his right hand on the runes. With practiced ease, he recited the incantation, and they both watched the parchment disintegrate into dust. Instead, the gust of wind collecting around Soren went for Ike, catching him off guard.

"This is amazing, Soren," Ike praised when the warm wind ruffled his clothing and hair, blow-drying him in under a minute. "You made magic out of scratch. I can't say I've ever seen any mage do that, especially not in captivity."

"I'm sure someone has done it before," Soren balked away from the praise, embarrassed. When Ike was fully dry and the air in the cell had become warmer, he collected the wind back into his left palm and crushed it to end the cast.

"That felt good. I no longer feel like I peed myself," Ike joked, returning to the ground with Soren at his side.

"That's… that's disgusting. It's a joke that only you could make, Ike."

"I'm one of a kind, as everyone always says," Ike replied in amusement. Soren indulged in a small smile to share his good mood, and then folded his four remaining parchments.

"Alright. Would you mind keeping these for now? In case anything happens, they're safer with you in here than being carried around with me." He handed the spells to Ike.

"Count on me," Ike promised him, tucking them behind his leather chestplate.

With that out of the way, they fell silent again. The atmosphere of the dank dungeon no longer felt tense, but strangely calm. This was probably the reason why Soren's eyelids soon began to droop under the weight of his burdens, and why Ike patted his chest with a companionable smile.

"Wanna catch some sleep? We can do it like yesterday. It worked out surprisingly well."

"Don't flatter yourself. Your body is harder than the floor," Soren huffed, nonetheless taking up Ike's invitation and sliding into his arms.

"I feel like that's a compliment," Ike hummed, and Soren shivered when the vibrations went through him as well.

"I can't sleep when you're talking. Shut up," Soren ordered, letting out a small sigh of content when Ike fell silent, letting Soren hear his heartbeat once more.

"Good night, Soren," Ike murmured, wrapping his cloak around them once more before encasing Soren's thinner frame in his arms. "Tomorrow, we'll be sleeping under the stars."

"I look forward to it."

He looked forward to anything he could do at Ike's side.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

Soren was shaken away by Ike moving underneath him, which was surprising, since he was usually the first to wake between them.

"Ike…?" he grunted, rubbing sleep out of his sunken eyes.

"People are coming, but it hasn't been long since we fell asleep," Ike frowned, untangling himself from Soren. "Listen."

It wasn't hard to hear the clanking of several metal footsteps steadily advancing towards them in a synchronized rhythm. It was ominous, to say the least.

"What's going on…?" he mumbled, sitting up and scooting away from Ike. Thankfully, they had not been caught in the compromising position, and they were well-apart by the time Lord Aventi stopped in front of their cell. He was flanked by two guards carrying lances. They all had grave expressions on their faces.

Soren had a very bad feeling about this.

"Master Tactician, may I make an inquiry?"

Lord Aventi's form was the same now as it had been the first time that Soren had spotted him up on the bannister; straight, squared, imposing, and severe. All the familiar taunting and mockery in which they'd indulged seemed to have left the air around them. Soren suddenly felt like he was no longer a political prisoner, but a prisoner of war.

"Does this involve my work for you? I told you that I did the best I could on the first day. The quantity of reports revised will be larger on subsequent-"

"Your reports were fine. I looked through all the paperwork I'd left behind, and I have no criticism about the quality of your work." And then, Soren's heart stopped when Lord Aventi pulled up a crumpled parchment that had Soren's handwriting all over it in ancient tongue.

Magical runes.

"Please enlighten me on what this is." It was not a question, but a demand. Aventi was no longer playing the role of an aristocrat, but of a jailor.

"I've never seen that parchment in my life," Soren lied smoothly through his teeth, not letting his shoulders tense. "It seems to be the ancient tongue, so it could be a record of-"

"Do not take me for a fool, Master Tactician," Aventi growled, baring his teeth in sheer rage. Soren felt cornered like an animal in a cage, quite literally. "I own no parchment of the sort, and it was in my files, to which only you and I have access."

And Soren finally recalled the parchment. It was the half-finished wind spell that he'd hastily hidden in a stack of papers when Aventi had come in the first time, and that he'd apparently forgotten to retrieve afterward.

Stupid. He couldn't believe that he'd been so stupid.

He'd doomed them both because of one lapse of attention. Soren felt like the stupidest person in Tellius.

"Soren." All pretenses dropped, Aventi crumpled the parchment in his hand. "I give you one more chance to explain to me what you were doing with this parchment before I assume the worst."

"Soren?" Ike turned to him, eyes reflecting his worry. He was waiting on a plan, an order, anything to get them out of the trap that had sprung on them so suddenly.

But Soren had no plan. Just this once, his mind failed him, and he found himself realizing that he had nothing left to give.

"As you wish." Aventi dropped the parchment on the floor and stepped on it, his steel heel clicking on the cobblestone like a cruel judge's gravel. "Bring him to me."

Soren's eyes snapped up in thinly-veiled panic, and his breath caught in his throat. He flinched back, and it took only that one twitch for Ike to spring into action.

"You'll not touch him again, you fiend!" he challenged, standing up to face the two guards that walked into the cell, cramping up the small space.

"Out of the way, Sir Ike," Lord Aventi warned in a booming voice. "I struck a deal with your tactician, and he made plans against me. I warned him of retribution, and now, he'll get it. Perhaps when he wakes from his frenzy, he will know not to play me for a fool again."

And Soren knew exactly what fate awaited him on the other side of those bars. He could see it in his mind's eye, and the apprehension drained the blood from his face.

"No." His voice escaped him in a whimper, just loud enough for Ike to hear. Ike only needed to take one look at the uncharacteristic terror plastered on his face to steel his resolve.

"You won't harm Soren. Not if I can do anything about it!" He squared his stance, though Soren wondered what he wanted to do against the lances pointed at him. Ike wasn't terrible at unarmed combat, but it wasn't his forte, especially not in such a cramped environment.

It felt like he was delaying the inevitable.

But Ike being Ike, he probably decided that he would go down fighting. And so, Soren barely had time to flinch at the arching trajectories of the lances before Ike was upon him, encasing him in his hold like a twisted mockery of the bliss they'd found earlier.

"It's my turn to protect you," he promised to Soren, gritting his teeth when the lances cut through his clothes and exposed skin.

The soldiers stopped, as if unsure of what to do. Ike took the brief reprieve to tuck Soren's head against his chest. Soren let himself be manipulated, numb. Everything felt surreal.

"Get me the tactician," Lord Aventi ordered. "And if Sir Ike gets in your way, cut him down."

"Ike," Soren rasped out, flinching when Ike grunted. The vibrations of lance heads and blunt ends impacting his body went through Soren as well, and with every strike to Ike's body, Soren felt a piece of his soul break. "Ike, stop. They're going to get to me one way or another, so just… just let them!"

"No way!" Ike let out a hiss of pain as a particularly violent strike ripped noisily through the flesh of his upper arm, to Soren's growing horror. He pressed Soren against the wall, entirely shielding him from the strikes, even though they both knew it was futile.

"Ike, please!" Soren did not beg, but this… this was overwhelming enough for him to make an exception. He couldn't handle the guilt of getting Ike hurt on top of everything else. "Stop!"

"Shut up, Soren!" Ike protested vehemently, bracing his arms against the wall. Even through the obscurity, Soren could discern the pinched expression of pain on his bowed face. Ike's lips were close enough for him to hear every muffled gasp that escaped them. It broke Soren's heart.

He was about to protest again when a sharp hiss escaped Ike. Instinctively, he folded towards his new injury, and Soren followed the tense lines of his body until he saw the large gash on his right side that was already beginning to bleed into his tunic. His face paled, and he only cried out Ike's name when one of the soldiers kicked Ike's new injury.

That drew a cry of pain from Ike's lips, but even with the momentum of the kick, he refused to fall away from Soren. He tried to make his way back to him before a second kick to the same spot stole his breath away, finally sending him to the ground, clutching at his wound.

"Ike!" Soren cried out, falling to his side, although he didn't quite make it before a tight grip tangled in his hair, dragging him back. "Damn it! Let go of me!"

"Just punishment for breaking your end of the bargain," Lord Aventi reminded him from the other side of the bars. "Stop resisting. The end result will be the same."

"Ike has nothing to do in this," Soren protested, trying futilely to get to Ike, even when the guard holding him by his hair began to tug him away. "Let go!"

"Soren!" Ike's face had gone pale, and Soren feared for a second that the injury on his waist had a very real risk of exsanguinating him. He tried to crawl forward towards Soren, but a kick to the face send him right back down to the ground with clear difficulty in getting back up. At this rate, he'd fracture his skull or bleed into his brain. Without a staff, Soren would not be able to help him.

"Ike, please, I beg of you to stand down." He changed tactics now, discarding all the pride he still had left if only to ensure Ike's survival. Ike had repeated time and time again that he would die for Soren, but Soren wouldn't be able to live without Ike. He prayed every day for Ike not to be as selfish as he was being right now.

Selfish and selfless all at once, and Ike's good intentions were ultimately what hurt Soren's heart the most.

"Soren…" To Soren's dismay, Ike rose again, unsteadily pushing himself on his feet. He clearly looked concussed, and Soren prayed he wouldn't get hit again.

"It's alright, Ike. It's alright." It definitely was not alright, but there was nothing left for Soren to say. He hated platitudes and false promises, but there was nothing else he could offer anymore.

He'd lost.

As soon as the first guard tugged Soren out of the cell, the second guard followed. Ike made a move to stumble after them, but the bars shut in his face. He clutched at them regardless, desperate and furious all at once.

"Take me instead!" he tried as a last resort, and Soren shut his eyes in mourning, knowing that there would be no changing Aventi's mind now.

"Both of you will reap the full brunt of the punishment equally, Sir Ike," Lord Aventi assured him, nudging his head forward. The guard holding Soren by his hair finally let him go, throwing him to the ground. Soren barely had time to rise to his knees before his arms were restrained on each side by one of the soldiers.

"Soren!"

"I promised you this, Soren, and I, at least, am not one to break my promises." Lord Aventi pulled a small wooden box out of his pocket and opened it to pull out a pill.

Soren had never seen the pill in his life, but he knew exactly what it was.

He locked his jaw as tightly as he could in anticipation for when Lord Aventi's hand fell upon his skin and began to pry his mouth open.

"What are you doing to him!? Stop it! Stop!" Soren briefly pitied Ike, for he was the only one out of the loop right now. The powerlessness he definitely felt at his inability to save Soren from this torture must have been torture in its own right.

"Open your mouth, wretch," Lord Aventi commanded, gripping his jaw tightly enough to bruise. Soren took harsh breaths through his nose, refusing to yield until the very last moment. "Do not force my hand. I will asphyxiate you within an inch of your life again if that's what it takes."

Soren shuddered at the graphic memory of the previous instance, but still refused to open his mouth. He felt like a hypocrite for asking Ike to stand down, but for continuing his own show of resistance. Perhaps that was the nail in the figurative (and perhaps literal) coffin, for it was after this traitorous thought that Soren parted his teeth just enough to take a breath. It took only the small opening for Aventi to shove his finger in and pry the rest of Soren's jaw open.

Soren saw the moment when the drug fell from Aventi's hand, and then felt it hit the back of his throat. He gagged at the foreign sensation, but a hand over his mouth and a pinch of his nose forced him to hold back.

"Now, swallow."

And Soren tried not to swallow, but the pill was disintegrating on his tongue whether he swallowed or not. It was bitter, the taste of it revolting and its anticipated effect even more so. Finally, he had no choice. Shutting his eyes to brace himself, he swallowed.

"Good."

The hands on him released him, and Soren's first reaction was to catch himself on all four. His second reaction was to shove his fingers into his throat, but he only managed to retch once before the guards were restraining him again.

"A fighter to the very end, Master Tactician," Lord Aventi grunted, looking down at Soren critically. "As much as I admire that, I wish it did not come to this."

"You're a sick dastard, Aventi," Soren hissed out, making sure that his hate shone through every word. "May Ashunera damn your soul forever when I get my hands on you."

Lord Aventi had nothing to say to that, instead signalling at the cell where Ike was waiting impatiently for Soren's return. The guards made a move to haul Soren to his feet and towards it, but Soren struggled in their grip with more vehemence than before.

"No!" he protested. "Put me in the other cell!"

"Soren?" Ike's eyebrows raised at his words. "What's going on?"

"You must return to Sir Ike, Master Soren. That's the entire point."

"No!" Soren grunted in exertion as he tried to break free from the guards, but there wasn't much he could do against two armoured men. They easily manhandled him back into the cell, although he tried until the very last second to escape it.

"Soren, what's happening?" Ike asked, immediately rushing to his side when the cell door was closed behind them.

"Don't come near me!" Soren warned, flinching away from Ike, then turning urgently to Aventi. "Let me out!"

"Soren, calm down!" Ike called out, thoroughly confused. "This is so unlike you. Calm down and tell me what's going on."

Soren recognized that Ike was right, but his mind was running a hundred miles a minute, so fast that his rational thoughts were beginning to blur. If this was the first effect of the drug, then it was a drug absorbed very rapidly. In the principles of medicine, then, it would also be metabolized quickly. Soren would just have to ride it out.

He lost the words he needed to say what he wanted, a first for him. He wanted to give directions to Ike, but he couldn't seem to remember how to speak. His eyesight felt sharper, though, and his eyes darted around until they landed on Ike's belt.

"Soren…?" Ike must have noticed something off about him, frowning for an entire second before Soren jumped at him, and scrabbled to undo his belt. "Whoa, whoa, Soren!? What in Ashera's name are you doing!?"

"Your belt," Soren answered in a single breath, unable to make sentences. For some reason, he couldn't retrieve the words he needed. "Tie me."

"What? No!"

"Ike!" And even when he forgot everything else, he remembered his name. He remembered his name and he cried it out like a prayer when a sudden pressure built up in his head. The pain sent him to his knees, bent over and clutching at his scalp so tightly that he pulled strands of dark hair out.

The pain invaded his brain like a parasite, and just when Soren thought it couldn't get worse, it did. The pain got so bad that he found himself unable to support himself up anymore, rolling onto his back in agony instead. Rolling over like an animal. Like the animal he was, deep inside of himself.

And through it all, Ike called his name, urgently at first, desperately then, and finally pleadingly. When Soren clutched at his head and screamed, loudly and so piercing that even the guard winced, Ike finally knelt, and gathered his squirming form to his chest, regardless of Soren's previous warnings.

"What have you done to him!?" he demanded angrily, glaring murder at Aventi, who watched the scene unfold impassively. "What did you give him!?"

"He did not tell you?" Lord Aventi cocked his head in faux innocence. It made Ike's blood boil with unadulterated rage. "If he broke his end of the deal, I told him I would give him the very same drug I give to my Feral Ones, and watch his dirty sub-human blood consume him. You did know that your precious tactician was Branded, correct?"

"You're a soulless monster! The lowest of the low!" Ike's grip on Soren tightened, even when his friend's breathing became laboured and heavy. He seemed to be fighting, but Ike couldn't tell if he was fighting the effects of the drug, or if he was fighting himself. "When I get out of here, I won't even give you the chance at an honourable death. I'll cut you down where you stand!"

"Survive the clutches of your friend first, Sir Ike," Lord Aventi warned before pulling away. "If you are alive come morning light, then we can talk about you slaying me."

"Scum!" Ike called out behind him. "May Ashera's judgment prey on your soul for eternities to come!"

Lord Aventi did not reply, heading off as if he hadn't just committed one of the most sacrilegious acts in the world to Ike's closest friend. His soldiers followed him, but as soon as they were out of sight, Ike turned his attention to the problem at hand.

Notably, Soren, whose cries had died down, but whose expression was still twisted in anguish.

"Soren?" Ike shook his shoulders gently, his own injuries forgotten in the face of this new ordeal. "Hey, Soren. Answer me! Wake up!"

He shook him a few more times, until Soren's eyes finally snapped open wide, uncannily so.

"Soren!" Ike let out a gasp of relief before realizing that something was off. Soren's eyes had always been red, but his pupils had shrunk, and had flattened, until they looked more like tiny slits rather than his regular pupils.

It was all that Ike had time to notice before Soren pounced on him, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

"Oof!" Breath escaped Ike's body as his fresh injury impacted the stone first, but he rolled away quickly out of reflex before Soren came crashing down on all four. It was strange to watch him move like a four-legged animal when he still looked human. "Soren? Soren, snap out of it!"

Soren bared his teeth instead in a deep, guttural growl that Ike didn't know his vocal chords could even produce. He braced himself just in time for Soren to jump at him again, and this time was able to just throw Soren over him with the momentum of his pounce. Soren hit the dusty ground and rolled, but rose to his knees, undeterred. Ike braced himself one more time, although the next jump did not come. Instead, Soren arched his back, clutching at his head with a high-pitched whimper again. When he doubled over in obvious pain yet again, began to tear at the frayed sleeves of his robes with feral intensity.

Feral intensity. Ike's blood ran cold as the full realization of what was happening hit him like a gust of cold wind. Mesmerized and horrified, he watched Soren tear pieces of his tan undershirt's sleeves right off, and then claw wildly at his own skin. From the first few strokes, his arms had begun to bleed, pieces of his own flesh caught under his fingernails.

It was painful and terrifying to watch Soren come undone like this, and Ike couldn't take it. He wouldn't stand for it.

"Soren, stop it! You're hurting yourself!" Soren was only part-laguz, and if that counted for anything, he had to try and reach the beorc inside of him that was unaffected by the feral drug. "Soren, listen to me! You're not what Aventi is trying to make of you. You're not a beast, you're not a monster!"

"Let… go!" Soren growled out, struggling when Ike grabbed his butchered arms to pull them away from him. "Let go!"

"You're there, Soren. I know you are!" Ike pleaded, flinching back when Soren snapped forward to try and bite him. He seemed to regret his actions immediately, though, drawing back with shock clearly etched on his face. For a moment, Ike saw Soren, the real Soren, shine through. He looked like he was pleading to be saved.

And then, Soren bared his teeth again, and lunged to try and bite Ike's wrist.

Ike released his grip on Soren to avoid getting bitten, and when Soren jumped at him again, he threw him over him once more.

"Soren, fight it!" Ike encouraged, undeterred. He felt dizzy from his own injuries, but somehow, watching Soren suffer brought a certain clarity to his thoughts. He couldn't give in now. "Listen to me. Listen to my voice. I believe in you, Soren. So, fight!"

"I-I…" Soren clutched his head again, wincing. He glanced at Ike, and in the obscurity, Ike watched his pupils dilate and constrict repeatedly, as if two entities warred inside his body without giving way to the other. "I can't… I can't!"

"You have never given up on me, Soren. Not ever, and certainly not now." Ike took a chance, and approached Soren. To his shock, Soren jumped back like a frightened animal, and retreated to the bars.

"Stay away… I'll hurt…" He seemed to be making great effort to find his words, but struggled still. "Ike!"

His name had never sounded so broken on someone else's lips, and Ike prayed for Soren's suffering to end already. He wanted to pull him out of it, but he had no idea how.

"I'm here, Soren. I'm here." He wasn't sure if this was the right thing to say, but he took a chance and stepped towards Soren.

"No, no, no…" His whimpers became more and more broken, until Soren had retreated against the corner, curled up on himself like a cornered beast on the verge of death. Ike wasn't sure if he was protesting his advance, but he wasn't going to let Soren fight through this horrible ordeal alone. He knelt in front of Soren, and just like he had done earlier, he put his arms loosely around Soren's shoulders.

"You're the strongest person I know, Soren," he whispered to him, refusing to let his own anguish take control. "You can do this. Breathe. Work through this like every other tight spot you've ever worked us through."

"Ike-" Soren's voice hitched. "Ike, I… I…"

"Soren?"

"Enough!" Soren screeched, lashing out at Ike's face with one of his hands. His nails weren't sharp enough to gouge through Ike's skin, but they did trace red lines on the line of his jaw. Ike didn't react to the pain and instead took Soren's hand.

Soren had stopped in his tracks, though, frozen still with his eyes on the red lines on Ike's face.

For a second, he even stopped breathing.

"No…" he whimpered, and the first tears rose to his eyes. "I hurt… I hurt…"

"I'm fine," Ike assured him. "Soren, you didn't hurt me. I'm fine."

"I hurt… I hurt…"

"No. No, you didn't. I'm alright. It's not painful. It's not bleeding. I'm okay."

"Ike." At the sound of his name called so reverently, Ike locked gazes with Soren. His lips were barely parted in an astonished gasp, his eyes wide and unfocused. His slit pupils had dilated until they almost swallowed the red of his irises. His limbs slackened. The lines of his face relaxed. A single tear ran down his cheek, and Soren did not react to it. "Kill me."

"Soren…" His name was a prayer that never reached the gods. Ike's eyes burned, his throat locked with an emotion strangely reminiscent of defeat. He hadn't cried since his father's death three years ago, never one to waste time shedding tears, but this… this was too much. "Soren, oh, Soren…"

"Kill me."

"Soren, no… No…" Ike protested weakly, drawing him into his embrace, holding him as if his arms could drive out every demon that had ever made Soren's life a living hell. Soren was slack in his arms, a shell of his usual self, and yet, Ike still held him like he was the most precious being in the world.

He was. He always would be the most precious person in Ike's life.

"Kill me."

Ike tangled a hand in Soren's hair, feeling the rough strands on the pads of his fingers.

"Kill me."

Ike pressed his face into the crown of Soren's head mournfully, feeling his perpetually cold skin against his warm, trembling lips.

"Kill me."

Ike rested his chin on top of Soren's head, slotting his friend's face into his chest, where it belonged, where it had always belonged. If his heartbeat had lulled Soren to dream before, he hoped that it would now draw him out of his living nightmare. Tears escaped his eyes and disappeared into Soren's dark hair.

"Kill me."

Ike did not find the words to reply to him, and curled himself over Soren to cocoon him away from the world. He let his body talk, because words no longer seemed to reach Soren, wherever he had gone.

Soren continued to plead with him, and Ike continued to rock him, until Soren ran out of words and Ike ran out of tears. When neither of them had voice left to spare, they remained tightly entwined together, 'till death or salvation did them part.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…

Ike woke before Soren, and the first thing he did was glance down at his companion lying comatose in his arms. He had not moved an inch since passing out from exhaustion in the night, still limp in Ike's embrace. Were it not for the light rise and fall of his chest, Ike would've thought him dead.

He could not imagine it. He would not imagine it. He refused to imagine a world without Soren by his side.

The silence felt brittle around them, and Ike was hesitant to shatter it. Instead, he adjusted Soren in his lap, cradling him against his chest with one arm and idly combing through his long hair with the other.

He was not aware that he was being watched until a light shuffle of feet tipped him off. Ike's head snapped up at the noise, his body instinctively recoiling around Soren whilst he sought to find the threat. However, there was only one person sitting against the wall across from their cell, and she didn't seem like much of a threat.

Alenna quickly realized that she'd been noticed, and her hands tightened on the dress pooling around her. She crossed gazes with Ike for a few seconds before she turned away, lips pursed and eyes sad.

Even though she was not an obvious threat, Ike still remained wary of her, sizing her up silently.

"I'm sorry," she finally spoke up, not meeting Ike's eyes. "I know it mustn't mean much to you after what Aventi did to you both, but… I'm sorry."

Ike did not answer her, not that he had anything to say anyway. Silence fell between them as he continued to cradle Soren in his lap. Alenna just watched.

"Sir Ike," she called once more once it became clear that Ike would not be speaking to her. "Please. I am on your side."

"The only person on my side is lying in my arms right now, almost having died after the torture your master put him through," Ike replied bitterly at last, glancing down at Soren. His face was relaxed, his expression neutral, almost peaceful.

"Aventi is not my master," Alenna corrected. "He is my brother. My name is Alenna Tevoyne, and I am the younger sister to Lord Aventi Tevoyne of Persis."

Somehow, the revelation felt underwhelming. Perhaps it was due to their current circumstances, or the fact that Ike had never really cared about titles, but the fact remained that he wasn't surprised by this new information. Alenna seemed thrown aback by the cold reception of her secret.

"You seem unsurprised."

"I don't really care."

"I see." She cast her eyes down again. "Well, I don't blame you. You've been through a lot."

"Why are you here?" Ike suddenly interrupted, glaring at her. "If you've come to take Soren back to your brother, then you will have to pry him from my dead body."

"That is not my purpose, Sir Ike." Alenna's eyes widened. "I… I merely wanted to see if I could do anything to ease your suffering. It is quite unlike my brother to be so cruel, and I… I find myself bothered by his demeanour."

"I don't want to hear it. Leave us alone."

"My brother is a warrior, as are you, Sir Ike," Alenna frowned at his dismissive attitude. "He values his pride as a warrior and as a man, and pursues the Duchy of Persis only to ensure the continuation of our line. I do not ask you to forgive his heartless ways, but please understand that he does this for me, and for our family."

"I will never understand how a man -a prideful warrior as you put it, no less- can cast aside his humanity in pursuit of his goals," Ike retorted firmly.

Alenna, for all the arguments she seemed to have previously, seemed to have none to make in regard to this one. She bowed her head shamefully.

"Your brother is a scourge to this nation. Men like him are the reason we sought to escape Tellius in the first place."

Ike's sharp gasp brought Alenna's attention back up to him, just in time to witness the warrior gently wrap his arms around the body in his lap, dipping his forehead against the crook of his neck. In response, Soren, who'd just spoken in a raspy voice, hesitantly set a hand on the back of Ike's neck, and shut his eyes. Alenna's heart skipped a beat and she had to look away, for she felt like she was intruding on a private moment.

"Soren," Ike greeted him shakily once he drew back, worriedly glancing down at him. Soren, in guise of a reply, simply untangled himself from Ike's arms, and sat down next to him with a wince.

"I apologize, Ike," he murmured, taking a look at his own forearms. The injuries he'd self-inflicted in his frenzy had scabbed over, but made for a gruesome sight. Thankfully, the scratches on Ike's face had healed entirely, so that Soren did not have to look at his ultimate failure.

To hurt the man that he so dearly longed to protect was now the fear that would haunt his every waking moment. Soren could not bear to live, knowing that he could -and would- lay a hand on Ike again some day.

"Soren, nothing that happened was your fault," Ike insisted softly, his eyes sad as if he could hear the thoughts in Soren's head. "I'm fine. And you're still here with me. That's what matters, right?"

"But I… I let myself surrender to it…" To the whispers that gradually became yelling in his brain, blocking out all rational thought and telling him to destroy everything. "I became that monster you saw… and I… now I know that it can be done again."

"I won't let anyone do that to you again, you hear me?" Ike retorted, his firm tone laden with promise. "No one is ever going to hurt you again."

"Neither of us could stop it the first time!" Soren raised his voice just a little, frustration touching the tip of his tongue. "Ike… if this is done to me again, I wouldn't bear to live with myself anymore. I cannot go on a single day, knowing that I have the power to hurt you."

"Soren, you would never hurt me."

"But I did! I hurt you, you- the only person I've ever trusted, the only man to whom I've ever offered my heart," he insisted, hanging his head. Ike couldn't discern his expression through the veil of dark hair that covered it, but he knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Stop beating yourself up," he sighed, putting his hands on Soren's shoulders. The weight of his grip drew Soren's gaze up once more, insecurity clouding the red of his eyes. "You're thinking loud enough for me to hear you from over here. I know you're upset. I know you're worried. And I know, Soren, I know that you would die before you hurt me… But you have to let this go."

"Let this… go…?" Soren's eyebrows shot up, but then dipped down in anger all too quickly. "How could you even ask me to let this go? This is something that-"

"Soren!" Ike cut him off, the loud call of his name freezing Soren in place. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he waited for Ike to continue. "Stop thinking. Stop it." His grip on Soren's shoulders tightened lightly, and his friend glanced down as if only just becoming aware of his touch. "Breathe. Stop letting these thoughts dominate you. Focus on me. Focus on my hands. You're here right now, and I am, too. So please, just stop worrying about the future and just… enjoy that we're safe right now."

"Oh, Ike…" Soren sighed heavily, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath as he'd been told. "I wish I could be simple-minded like you are sometimes."

"I really feel like that wasn't a nice thing to say."

"Take it as you will."

That had Ike chuckling, and his hands momentarily squeezed Soren's shoulders before he let go entirely.

"Good to have you back, Soren," he murmured, just loud enough for both of them. And the clandestine smile that graced Soren's face was intimate enough to belong to them, and them only.

"I'll never forgive myself, but I… I am glad to be back," Soren replied, glancing away from Ike in a rare show of shyness.

"We'll talk about that once we get out of here. Because we're getting out of here. Today." The specification seemed to hammer the point home, and Soren found himself slipping back into his usual countenance- the neutral expression he wore when he started to think.

"Do you still have them?" he asked, glancing at the leather breastplate on Ike's left chest.

"Yes. Wait." Ike turned around for a second, glancing outside their cell. However, the cautious look fell off his face when he realized that Alenna had disappeared. "Huh. Alenna left."

"No matter," Soren huffed. "She is as bad as her master."

"Her brother, actually. And she seemed genuine when she said that she was on our side," Ike mused out loud.

"I must have missed a large part of the conversation before I woke up," Soren raised a brow. "But. Although I do not trust her, I do trust you. So, if you think she is worth putting our faith in, I will consider her in my escape plan."

"Well… we'll wait until she's back to decide," Ike shrugged. "So. What's the plan so far?"

"The only thing I need to figure out is how to get out of the cell," Soren muttered in thought, pulling the sleeves of his robe down over his arms. They were still tender to touch, but Soren just wanted to keep the ugly, uneven gashes out of his view. "After that, it'll be an easy way out of the dungeons."

"What do we do about that heavy door?" Ike asked.

"I've got an idea to open it from the other side, so leave that part to me," Soren assured him. "However, there is always a guard posted at the doorway, so although I may get the door open, you will have to get the guard before he sounds the alarm."

"I can do that."

"Without a weapon, of course."

"I can… probably do that."

"I'll assist you with whatever magic I have left," Soren added. "However, I cannot take him down by myself without a proper tome to concentrate my power."

"Alright, well… You can leave that bit to me," Ike nodded. "After that, I guess we just make a run for it?"

"Yes." Soren made some space between them and traced a map of the fort on the wet cobblestone with his finger. In the obscurity, it wasn't a very helpful move, but at the very least it helped Soren focus. "Then, from the dungeons to the courtyard, the hallways will most likely be empty. From what I've gathered in Aventi's staff list, he does not have enough men to patrol the halls, so he usually keeps them outside on the perimeter. Unfortunately, the men train in the courtyard, and as far as I know, the courtyard gate is the only way past the walls around this place. So, we will have to go through them."

"What's our angle of approach?" The intensity in Ike's eyes reminded Soren of the war. It wasn't all that long ago, and yet it felt like an eternity since he'd seen Ike so focused on the best way to cut down enemy men.

"Actually, I'd prefer if we avoided combat as much as possible," Soren corrected him dutifully. "We're both in no shape to fight, especially considering that neither of us has his weapon of choice. We run the risk of getting overwhelmed if we face them head on."

"So… we'll be running away?" It was obvious that Ike didn't like this course of action, but as always, he trusted Soren with the tactics. "Won't they catch us?"

"Our biggest concern is exhaustion, actually," Soren explained. "We have not eaten properly nor slept properly for two days now. We're both injured and most probably sick with some form of ailment from being down here. Were we to run away, our legs would give out in front of the gates." Soren's expression darkened substantially as a thought crossed his mind. "At that point, also, Aventi will have caught wind of our escape, and will have had time to issue orders… The success of our escape rides on the hope that Aventi and his men will be caught unaware, and will have formed their ranks only long after we're out of sight."

"What if we get rid of Aventi altogether?" Ike suggested, gritting his teeth. Soren saw the clench in his jaw, and a fresh wave of guilt went through him. "I'd like to cut him down where he stands, that bastard."

"Like I said, our battle condition is not great." Still, he knew better than most how emotions could affect one's will to fight, and he couldn't shoot Ike down in good conscience. "I would not advise it in our current state… That being said, if we were to encounter him, we'd have no choice."

"I hope he decides to take a walk, then." Ike rolled his right shoulder, already beginning his warm-up for an eventual fight.

"Now, like I said… our biggest concern is to get out of our cell," Soren reminded him before he got too excited. "I suppose we will have to wait for that woman to return."

"I didn't hear her leave," Ike mused out loud, but then took his mind off of it. "Oh well. She's going to bring us breakfast some day, right?"

"Until that time, let me see your injury," Soren glanced down at Ike's waist, where a large stain of dried blood had seeped into the fabric all around the large tear. Last night memories were bright, almost oversaturated in Soren's mind's eye, but he remembered Ike getting injured pretty badly in the altercation before his capture.

"This thing?" Ike cocked his head, following Soren's gaze to his bloodied waist. "It's fine. It's stopped bleeding. It doesn't even hurt."

"Let me see it, you obstinate fool," Soren sighed. "I'll dress it, at the very least."

"Whatever you say," Ike rolled his eyes, but also rolled his tunic up, which was what mattered to Soren right now.

A quick glance at the wound made it seem ghastly, although in reality, it was not that large. True to Ike's word, it had coagulated and scabbed already, a raised patch of angry red skin that would be added to Ike's existing collection soon enough. There was a large perimeter of violent purple bruising around the wound, which spoke of bleeding into surrounding tissues, and Soren was unsurprised, as the injury had been done by a stab. As long as the bruising didn't continue to spread, he was unworried about active internal bleeding, though. Right now, his biggest priority was to prevent an infection, a very likely risk considering their less-than-hygienic current amenities.

They were both silent as Soren worked, ripping pieces of his already-torn undershirt sleeves to provide bandages for Ike. He had to rip off both of his sleeves and part of the hem to have enough to circle Ike's waist, but thankfully, his mostly-intact robes kept the chill of stone away from his skin. Without letting his million other concerns cloud his mind right now, he busied himself with Ike's injury, letting his fingers run across every raised scar and rippling muscle on his body. In turn, Ike seemed to be enjoying the attention, indulging just this once as he was not normally fond of this form of worship. Still, he let Soren work and explore on the side, until the wound was covered and the bandage was secured.

"Thank you," he murmured once he was done, and with that, they fell silent.

It took a while for Alenna to return, a time in which Ike did warm-up exercises and Soren rested the remaining exhaustion away against the wall. Ike was in the middle of another set of push-ups when the heavy wooden doors opened in the distance, and drew both of them to attention. They both gathered together against the wall, and waited in silence, and slight apprehension.

Soren felt a little lighter when he realized that Alenna was alone, for he felt a certain anxiety at the thought of meeting Aventi again. If all went well, he would never have to see the man again. However, he knew full well that nothing ever went right for them. He'd cross that bridge when he got there, however.

"I apologize for walking in on you, sirs," Alenna greeted them, sliding a platter of food through the small opening in the bars designated for it. "I did not want to stay earlier, as it seems you had much to discuss alone."

"Appreciated, Alenna." Soren wasn't sure if Ike was talking about their privacy or breakfast, but knowing Ike, it was probably about breakfast. Indeed, Ike reached out and pulled the tray closer to them, his face lighting up just a fraction when he saw that dried meats had been included on the platter with the regular oatmeal. Endearing, really.

"Now, like I said before… I am on your side," Alenna started again, kneeling down in front of the bars to get at eye level with them. "I would like to prove it to you somehow. So tell me what I should do."

"Let us out," Soren scoffed, pushing Ike's hand away when he lifted a piece of dried venison to his face.

"I wish I could, but my brother has been on high alert since yesterday," Alenna frowned apologetically. "I no longer have access to the keys. My brother has confiscated all the sets, and is the only one who carries the keys around now. He will lend it to the guard when it is time to fetch you. For now, I've told him that you are not conscious yet, but he will soon question me again, or come to see for himself."

"So, we don't have much time…" Soren bit his lip, his mind running at lightning-fast speed to come up with a plan. Ike observed him carefully as he mused, chewing idly on a piece of meat. "Alright. I have a plan."

"Let's hear it," Ike nodded. Unlike Alenna, who seemed surprised that he'd already come up with something, he was unfazed, used to Soren's genius breakthroughs.

"Alenna, how far are you willing to go in this?" Soren turned to the girl, who seemed surprised that she was being addressed directly by the shrewd tactician.

"Well… I do love my brother, and I wish no harm upon him. I just don't agree with his treatment of you, so I will help you leave this place," she answered hesitantly. "Is that alright?"

"As long as you don't backstab us, it doesn't matter to me," Soren huffed, putting a strand of hair away from his face, behind his ear. "Alright. This is what I would have you do. We're going to bring down two birds with one stone, and you, Alenna, are that stone."

…-…-…-…-…-…-…

The door slammed against the wall as Alenna ran into Aventi's chambers, startling the man, who was getting dressed.

"Alenna, have you no shame?" Aventi barked, thankfully modest when he turned to face her, although his expression became severe when he saw her tearful, panicked expression. "What is wrong, sister? Has something happened?"

"Master Soren and Sir Ike are not responding to me," she sobbed out, tears flooding her eyes. "They were asleep together when I left them to go fetch breakfast, but when I came back, they were wide apart and did not wake up to my calls. I-I don't know what's happened!"

"Calm yourself, Alenna. I am sure it is nothing to be concerned about," Aventi sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You really should not be involving yourself with those two. Let the maids see to their needs instead."

"I apologize, brother…" Her tone lowered, and the sincerity in her words threw Aventi aback a little. "I didn't mean to cause trouble, I just… I was just curious, and now I am so worried!"

"They will be fine, Alenna. I'm sure of it." Aventi grabbed his scabbard from the seat nearby and clipped it around his waist with practiced ease. "I need them both alive if I am to take down Lord Tantas and perpetuate our father's final wish. The methods I elect to use to manipulate them may be brutal, but they are in no way lethal."

"Please, at least let me go check on them!" Alenna begged, clasping her hands together.

"Let's go together. I will not allow you to get close to them without supervision," Aventi decided, nudging his head at the door. Alenna dried the last of her tears and followed. "They are cunning, those two. Were they not behind bars, I myself would have feared for my life. I would not wish to see them do harm upon you, sister."

Alenna looked like she was about to retort, but held back. Aventi took it as silent acceptance, and the two of them made their way down. The walk to the dungeons felt like an eternity to Alenna, though it must've been a few minutes only.

"Let us through," Aventi ordered to the guard, who nodded and immediately lifted the creaking iron bar to open the double doors. They shut behind them with a decisive thud that resonated across the entire dungeon.

Alenna almost ran to the cell, with Aventi following closely. She stopped at the bars and gripped them urgently.

"Master Soren?" she called loudly. "Sir Ike? Wake up!"

When Aventi came within view of his important prisoners, he saw what Alenna had meant when she'd described their state. It worried him a little, too, but he would never admit it. Ike was spread on the far corner, face first on the cold stone. He didn't seem to be breathing from afar, although in the darkness, it was hard to ascertain. Soren was on the opposite edge, closer to the cell bars, spread on his back with his arms out.

There were very few explanations as to why they'd ended up this way in the timeframe that Alenna had described.

"Move aside, Alenna," he ordered a bit more urgently, fumbling with the keys to open the cell. The door creaked open, and Alenna rushed in immediately, going for Ike at the furthest corner of the cell.

Aventi went for Soren instead, kneeling next to him and pressing his fingers to his neck for a pulse. To his relief, he got one, so instead, he pulled Soren's eyelids open to check his eyes.

"Brother!" Alenna suddenly cried out from the other end, making Aventi snap away from Soren. "He's not breathing! Sir Ike is dead!" And she sobbed, loudly, putting her face in her hands.

"Impossible!" That had Aventi worried, and he immediately made his way toward Alenna, who still cried without inhibition. She stepped back to allow him to kneel next to Ike, but before Aventi even got a hand on Ike, a voice from behind him, only barely discernible from behind Alenna's sobbing, alerted him.

He turned around just in time to receive a harsh whirlwind to his face, the vigor of the winds actually causing him to stumble back and hit the wall. Suddenly, his legs were taken out from under him, and he hit the ground harshly, breath knocked out of his body.

When he opened his eyes, Ike and Alenna were running away from him, with Soren already outside the cell and clutching papers in his hand.

"Stop!" he cried out uselessly, rushing after them with a burst of adrenaline in his steps.

He almost made it, too, his hand just shy of Alenna's long braid before the cell door closed behind him. He tried to pry it open, but Ike -who was alive and well, thank you very much- forced it closed long enough for Alenna to lock it with the set of keys that she'd stolen from him without him noticing.

"Alenna! What is the meaning of this!?" he demanded, anger and confusion and perhaps some betrayal in his tone.

"I can't watch you hurt them anymore, brother," Alenna stood her ground, grasping the keys tightly enough to make her knuckles blanch. Next to her, Ike and Soren looked impassive. "They've done nothing wrong and yet… you did such horrible things to them. I can't stand by and do nothing."

"I've only done it for us, Alenna!" Aventi gripped the bars tightly. "I've done it for us, for our future, for our father's legacy!"

"There must be some other way to do it without having to torture innocents, Aventi!"

"You stubborn fool, you have no idea what you've done!" Aventi raised his voice, putting his hand out through the bars. "Hand me the keys and I'll forgive your betrayal. Do it, now!"

"I will not!" Alenna firmly clutched the keys to her chest, her face set. "I will accept what punishment you see fit to deliver, but only after these two are free and long gone. Until then, I will stand watch at your door. I will stand by my convictions, brother, just as you stand by yours!"

"They have nowhere to escape to!" Aventi's eyes finally turned to Ike and Soren, who were conversing in low tones. "You! You're stuck here with me, I hope you know that."

"Actually, we've got quite the plan to leave this place without you," Soren calmly replied, meeting Aventi's challenge head on. "Alenna has volunteered to stay behind and let you out only once we are far from this place."

"Is that how you think it'll be?"

The sudden shift in Aventi's tone sent shivers down Soren's spine. He did not like the look that came upon his face as he reached into his shirt, and pulled out the small contraption hanging on the chain around his neck.

"Brother, no!" Alenna seemed to recognize it, and by the looks of her blanched expression, it wasn't anything good.

"Soren, let's go!" Ike pressed, although they were all stopped in their tracks when Aventi raised the contraption to his lips and blew in it.

The noise that left the whistle was shrill, piercing their eardrums and freezing them all in their places. Soren doubled over with his hands on his ears, letting out a small cry of pain, and Ike had his arms around his waist in a second.

"Soren, what's wrong!?" he asked urgently, grateful when the whistle stopped and Soren relaxed a little.

"I'm fine," he assured him as he tried to catch his breath, fat beads of sweat rolling down the sides of his face. "What in Tellius was that…?"

"It's the whistle my brother uses to call on his Feral Ones," Alenna explained with a whimper, turning to her brother. "Aventi! What have you done? Even at the very end, you would resort to such underhanded methods!?"

"I know you dislike it, Alenna, but it is also for you that I do this," Aventi sighed, tucking the whistle away and turning to Ike and Soren, who'd righted himself. "My Feral Ones will break down their barrier soon enough and will be upon us. None of us will be spared. So, if you value your lives, I suggest you let me out of here, and I will let all of us out in one piece."

"Soren?" Ike turned to his tactician, who seemed deep in thought despite the lingering expression of discomfort on his face.

"Let's go, Ike. We don't need him to get out of the dungeons," he decided, making a step into the opposite direction. In the depths of the dungeons, banging rose like an omen, the sound of something breaking and rattling becoming louder and louder.

"Alright," Ike nodded, turning to Alenna. "Alenna, let's go!"

"W-We can't leave him here!" she insisted. "We can't leave him alone with them!"

"He's inside the cell, he'll be fine!" Ike insisted, turning to Soren, who was already making some steps towards the exit. "Come on!"

"No!"

"Let her go, Ike! We have to run!" Soren reminded him.

"But Soren-!"

"Go, Sir Ike!" Alenna interrupted him. When Ike turned back to her, her eyes were full of tears, genuine this time. "I… I will stay with my brother. He is my only family, and if judgment is to come for him, then it will have to come for me, too."

"Alenna, don't do this," Aventi pleaded in the most genuine show of emotion that Ike had seen. Not that it changed anything. He still hated the guy with all his guts, but at least he knew he was still human deep inside. "Alenna, go!"

"Aventi…" Alenna sighed, clutching the key to the cell tightly in her hand. "Ever since Father died, you've been the only person who's ever paid me any attention. I would've been lost without you… and so, I cannot leave you here."

"They've made their choice," Soren reminded Ike, who finally glanced away. "Leave them!"

"You're right," he sighed, taking one last glance at the siblings before hurrying off behind Soren. In the distance, the noises became louder, howling and growling audible nearby.

"Alenna, please…" Aventi tried again, no longer paying heed to his escaped prisoners. "I know I've done you wrong, but I only want your wellbeing. I wanted the Duchy so we could live with the finest comforts! You could finally be happy!"

"I was happy as long as I stayed by your side, brother…" Alenna's expression turned sad. "Money and recognition didn't matter to me. All I wanted was to stand by you. And I still want that."

"Alenna…" Aventi put his arm out through the bar, and Alenna took his hand, clutching tightly. She was shaking, and Aventi knew she was scared. "Alenna, my sister…"

"We're going to be alright, brother," her voice cracked, and she bit her lip as a sob escaped her again. The noises came closer. Faster. Paws trampling on the cobblestone, echoing around her as they came. Panting and growling and demanding blood. Their blood. "The goddess will redeem your soul through my sacrifice. And we shall go beyond this life together."

She inserted the key into the lock.

"Alenna, no!"

She turned.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…

Soren and Ike only just reached the top of the winding stairwell before the first blood-curdling screams resonated from the place they had left behind. Ike flinched, but Soren seemed focused on his task, pulling out his spells regardless of the horrors happening behind them.

"Alright," he glanced up at Ike, putting his right hand on one of the pages. "Push when you hear creaking. That's the sound the iron bar makes when it is lifted."

"Right. And I'll watch for the guard," Ike nodded, cracking his knuckles when Soren began to recite his spell. Wind gathered in his palm and he knelt on the floor, putting his hands against the small slit between the ground and the door.

Focusing his power, Soren let loose his whirlwinds, praying that the iron bar was not too heavy to budge. Everything rode on the success of this step, or they would be the next ones to fall to the Feral Ones devouring the occupants of the fort. He could not allow Ike to be harmed again.

With that in mind, he grunted in exertion and pushed, pushed the magic as hard as it possibly could come. The ether around him warped, behaving bizarrely as his tome-less spell ran its course, and just when Soren began to believe that they had failed, the telltale creaking of the iron bar being lifted sounded out like a bell of triumph.

Ike slammed his shoulder against the doors, and they swung open, the bar falling back down without the winds carrying it up. The brightness of the antechamber blinded them momentarily, and it gave the astonished guard the opportunity to pull up his fallen jaw. He was white as a sheet, almost as if he'd seen a ghost. Or a self-raising iron bar.

"W-What's the meaning of this!?" he demanded, pointing his spear at them. "Don't move!"

Despite his threats, Ike grabbed Soren's upper arm and helped him stumble out of the doorway.

"You're the one who should stay still," Ike warned the soldier, cracking his neck. "As much as I dislike lances, I'll be taking yours today."

"That's a spear, Ike," Soren corrected him, grunting in effort as he shut the heavy doors behind them and slid the infamously creaky iron bar back down.

"Lance, spear, whatever." Ike advanced on the quaking soldier, who seemed at a loss of what to do. "They're all the same to me."

"Just hurry and grab it."

"Sure."

After a ridiculously short fight that left the soldier unconscious on the floor, Ike grabbed the man's spear and with Soren at his side, opened the way towards the courtyard. They both remembered the way through the torchlit corridors, and as Soren had predicted, there were no guards patrolling the interior of the castle.

That also meant that he had rightly predicted that they'd all be in the courtyard.

"Are you okay?" Ike asked when they stopped at the front doors, their last rest stop before all mayhem broke loose.

"I'll be better when we make it out of here entirely," Soren pointed out, going for the doors. "Are you ready? Just run. I'll follow you and cover your back."

"How many spells do you have left?"

"Three." To make sure, Soren pulled the pages out, and then gripped them tightly. "More than enough."

"Then let's do this." His conviction was strong, and Ike briefly set his hand on Soren's shoulder like a comforting weight to nail down his wordless promise. Soren settled his hand on Ike's to acknowledge it, squeezed lightly, and then let go. It was the cue for Ike to throw the door open.

The early morning light filtered immediately upon them, blinding them once more with the contrast between the sunny sky and the dim hallways. Soren adjusted a fraction of a second quicker than Ike, and thus was able to ascertain their situation.

"They haven't noticed us," he murmured, glancing down at the courtyard from their position of vantage at the top of the stone stairs. "I estimate about… seventy men, no more than a hundred, all spread out across the courtyard. My guess is that as soon as we begin our descent, we will be noticed. Let's take advantage of their confusion to clear a path."

"I can't really mow down a straight path with a lance, Soren."

"Spear."

"I still can't do it."

"Leave it to me, then," Soren sighed in exasperation, although he did relish the moment of familiarity with his companion.

"If you insist," Ike twirled his wrist, cracking the bones. "I'm ready when you are."

"Alright. Now!" Soren picked out one of his spells, and began his rapid descent down the stairs.

Ike followed him closely, eyes on the nearest soldiers. They did not notice them until they were about halfway down the stairs, at which point, they only stared in confusion as if they didn't really understand. Ike figured that most of them did not even know who they were, although bloodied and beaten up as they were, they certainly did not look like they were part of the castle staff.

Thankfully, by the time the first soldiers had reacted, Soren's parchment was dissipating into the air, and the winds were being beckoned to their aid. His voice, lyrical in its rendition of the ancient tongue, faded into thin air before he raised his right palm, gathering violent gusts on wind into it.

"Move!"

It was the only warning that Ike received before Soren finished his descent, and immediately slammed his hand down to the stone ground. A large crescent of gales, lightly tinted green with magic, arose from where his hand touched the ground, and rushed forward uninhibited. Ike watched as several soldiers, still taken by surprise, stumbled and fell, whilst many others were simply pushed back. The magic wasn't strong enough to sweep anybody off their feet, but Ike had no doubt that with the proper tome, Soren would have no trouble doing that.

"Nice one!" he called to Soren, rushing forward on the now-clear path in front of them. Soren caught up quickly behind him, though he did seem slightly out of breath. Ike made it a mission to chastise him on his lack of physical fitness later on, when they weren't in imminent danger of death.

There were no more words exchanged, as they could only clear a few dozen feet before the first soldiers were upon them, weapons raised. Ike took this as his cue to take the spotlight, and rushed at the first one, a man in full armour wielding a sword. He was not exceptionally talented, and Ike would have cut him down in the blink of an eye if he had his father's sword at his waist right now, but he had to make do with his spear, and that elongated the battle.

The armour did not even scratch upon impact with the tip of the spear, which irked Ike to no end. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with a blade only a few inches long. Regardless, he had to hurry it up. Soren had not said anything to him yet, but he was currently using one of his last spells to fend off the men rushing at them from behind, and he would soon be left defenseless.

The thought of it must have motivated him somehow, because Ike sidestepped a downward slash, twirled his spear, and then thrust it as hard as he could at the armoured soldier.

The spear penetrated through the gap between the soldier's breastplate and helmet, and it was easy to tell from the amount of blood that splattered out that Ike can pierced cleanly through his throat.

"Hey, I didn't know I could do that," he hummed, surprised and self-satisfied. As apparently proficient as he was with a lance, however, he let go of his weapon and picked up the now-dead man's sword from where it had clattered out of his limp hands. "Now, let's get started for real."

"Oh, good," was the only comment that Soren made before he followed Ike forward.

With a proper blade now in his hand, it was almost ridiculously easy for Ike to cut them a path through. Many soldiers stayed back in fear of the demon that seemed to possess Ike as he fought, and the ones brave enough to advance on him were met with their match all too easily. Ike looked dirtied, bloody, beaten and exhausted, but he still looked fearsome all the same.

Whilst he busied himself with their slow but steady advance, Soren glanced around them for anything they could use to help them escape. Past the sea of men littering the courtyard, he saw nothing of use… until he heard a loud whinny, and whipped his head in its direction.

A rider had hopped off his horse in the area towards their right, presumably to join the fray without risking trampling his comrades. The horse, though seemed to be unnerved by all the people around them and the anxiety in the air at Ike's demonstration of strength, whinnying and scratching at the ground. It didn't seem to be broken in entirely when it came to the battlefield, seeing as it had trouble staying in its spot, to its rider's disgruntlement. Soren figured that it could be both a boon and a bane to their escape, with no way to find out but to try.

"Ike!" he called, rushing to catch up to him. He pointed to their right, where the horse was still giving its rider some trouble. "Let's get that horse!"

"Right!" Kicking a soldier into another one of his comrades, Ike changed course towards the right. Soren followed him, still focused on the flow of the battlefield around him.

Whilst many men were already lying on the ground, dead or dying, many of them were still standing, split between attacking the vicious intruders or standing down and keeping their lives. The indecisiveness made for disjointed troops, whose movements were uncalculated and ineffective. Soren was intimately familiar with the inner workings of an army, and he could tell that without a leader to assemble them back together, this army of men was nothing but a mob. Still, he had to remain wary of their numbers, and of getting overwhelmed. It was how they'd gotten caught the first time.

They reached their target quite easily, the horse's rider all too eager to jump into the fray. He let go of his horse's reigns and drew his sword, although his stance proved that he was no better than the men before him. He probably fought on horseback in his ideal state, Soren figured, as his swings were powerful but his footwork was messy.

Ike made quick work of him, too, impaling the rider on his sword and then flinging his body backwards at the soldiers rushing them. They received the dead weight right in front of them, which stalled their advance long enough for Ike to hoist himself on the saddle.

"Soren!" he called, holding his hand out. Soren jumped lightly to catch it, but missed the stirrups with his foot. He let out a cry of surprise, although was able to catch himself with the pommel of the saddle, and with Ike pulling him up.

"Go!" he ordered, straining to keep his foot on the stirrups, on top of Ike's. The saddle's pommel felt slippery under his clammy hand, but if they lingered here any longer, they would have no chance at escaping.

Ike, thankfully, followed his command despite the insecurity in his eyes, fending off the blade of an incoming soldier to the left before rather violently clubbing the horse's flank with the hilt of his sword.

For all the intelligence horses were known to have, this one seemed like the exception to the rule, Soren figured, as it seemed to believe that it was under attack. Soren didn't have a chance to brace himself before the horse lurched forward immediately into a gallop, almost throwing him off.

He hated horses.

"Soren, get up here!" Ike cried out as if it was the easiest feat to accomplish for a man hanging off the side of a galloping horse.

"I'm trying!" His arms were weak after the abuse he'd endured over the past day or so, and they trembled as he tried to pull himself up and simultaneously keep his balance. The horse was not even running straight, veering to one side, and then to the other in its frenzy. Soren began to regret his decision to ride out of the courtyard when suddenly, Ike swung his sword at yet another man that passed by in a blur, and then dropped his weapon.

"Here, come on," he then offered, now using his other free hand to help Soren up. Soren clumsily thrusted himself onto the horse, trying to keep his body as close as possible to the lurching body of the animal. As soon as he had swung his leg over, though, Ike let him go, and pulled on the reigns.

Soren almost fell off when the horse immediately stopped at Ike's command, rearing in its terrified frenzy. He felt himself slipping, but thankfully, his back didn't hit air but the hard and warm body behind him. The scream of surprise and momentary terror he let out was covered up by the horse's loud whinny, and Soren figured that the real victim here was the poor horse they were martyrizing. He just hoped that it had warmed up prior to their kidnapping, or they wouldn't get very far on horseback at this rate.

"Ride!" Ike ordered, snapping the reigns. The men around them had not dared approach the frenzied horse, probably because it was behaving erratically and could trample them easily. The horse lurched forward in yet another panicked gallop, though this time, Ike had it under control.

Seemingly.

Soren felt lightly nauseous as they rode, wind whipping into his eyes. Ike was moving his body to the rhythm of the horse's gallop, steady and comfortable on horseback, unlike Soren, whose backside bumped on the saddle rather painfully. He wouldn't miss riding once they were out, obviously.

"Soren!" Ike called his attention up, leading the horse into a loop to throw off some brave men who tried to spear the horse's flank. "There are lancers massing at the gate. They're probably going to try to lance the horse as we ride to the gate. What should we do?"

"Ride to the gate!" Soren pulled out his last spell parchment, clutching it tightly enough to rip it as it fluttered dangerously against the wind. "I'll clear a path for us!"

"I knew you'd have a plan," Ike grinned, urging the horse to turn around again, and head straight for the gate. It barreled down the courtyard, men jumping out of its way, although Soren now saw the blockade that Ike referred to. At least a dozen lancers were already holding their weapons out towards them, aiming to stab the horse's flank and throw them off before they exited.

He tried to let go of the pommel of the saddle to cast his spell, but the lurching of the horse had him clutching on the second he let go.

"Soren, hurry!" Ike urged him, though he did not slow his advance.

"Keep going," Soren ordered, and let out a sigh of frustration. "And for the love of all that is holy, Ike, would you please just hold me!?"

That had Ike laughing loudly, genuinely, high on adrenaline and relief and hope, hope that he placed in Soren as one of his strong arms wrapped tightly around his waist. With the pressure against his body and the warmth against his back, Soren finally found the courage to let go, and put his hands on his final parchment.

He began to cast the spell, urgently as they neared the blockade. Ike's grip tightened on his robes, in encouragement or anxiety; Soren couldn't tell. The men at the gate were barking orders at each other, filed in ranks and lances out with the intent to halt their escape no matter the cost. And Soren recited, racing against the advance of the horse beneath him. Ether gathered around him, and concentrated into his palm. They were dangerously close to the blockade now.

"Soren!" Ike called out urgently, and Soren saw his grip tighten on the reigns as if to stop the horse.

But they couldn't stop now. They would die if they did.

"Wind!" he called, and Ike's grip on the reigns loosened. His arm held him tightly, pressed him close. Soren knew that Ike trusted him no matter what.

And that was all he needed to deal the final blow.

"Tunnel through!" he ordered to the ether, and threw his arm out in front of them.

They were within six feet of the blockade, and Soren could see the sun glinting off of their spears, when the violent gale left his hand and headed in a straight line right before them. The wind tunnel created by the velocity of their advance was impressive, and the men standing in front of them were practically blown away as they were pushed to the side, into their comrades, into the wall, away from Ike's and Soren's path.

Their ranks were broken, and Ike steered the terrified horse out through the gap that Soren created at the last minute. Weapons clanged as the soldiers tried to catch them with the last of their abilities, but the horse did not stop, and Ike did not stop it, and Soren stopped just long enough to realize that they were finally free.

Ike vocalized enough elation for both of them. He cheered as the horse rode on through the plain, his voice rumbling against Soren's back. Soren just indulged in his happiness, relieved from the bottom of his soul and glad that it was all over for now.

Eventually, as they put some distance between the fort and themselves, Ike slowed the horse down to a trot and then finally stopped it. In the distance, the fort's walls were still visible, but Soren felt no anxiety looking at it anymore.

"We made it." Ike's arm had not left his waist, Soren noted, even when he'd taken hold of the pommel again. He didn't mind. He'd never felt safer than he did now, Ike's heart beating against his back and the adrenaline of their escape coursing through his veins.

"Of course we did," Soren huffed, crossing his arms. The horse shifted beneath them, shaking its mane as if sensing that Soren was vulnerable, and Soren let out a small whimper as he felt himself slip.

"You really hate riding, don't you?" Ike simply laughed, readjusting Soren on the saddle in front of him and setting his chin down on the back of his head. "I'm surprised you didn't throw up."

"Who am I, Boyd the first time that Oscar took him on a horseback ride?" Soren grumbled without animosity, indulging Ike using him as a chinrest.

"Keep reminiscing like that and I'll start thinking that you miss them," Ike teased.

"Well… I don't want to forget them, either… I just do not long for their company," Soren sighed. "That is why I agreed to travel with you. To leave and to become anonymous again, because the only person I want to know me would always be at my side."

"Of course I will be," Ike assured him with surprising sincerity. "Soren…" His tone lowered into something sadder. "You… You went through a lot in there."

"We both did."

"Don't make light of what that man did to you," Ike shook his head, drawing back. "There's a difference between being hurt and being… being tortured. Soren, you… he abused all of your insecurities and made you live your nightmares. That's… that's a lot to go through."

"I'm fine, Ike." The topic made Soren uncomfortable all of a sudden, and he hoped that Ike couldn't feel the roiling in his gut underneath his arm. "War does that to all its victims."

"This isn't war anymore, Soren," Ike reminded him. "We wanted to leave Tellius because we didn't want war anymore. And so, for this to happen to you… I just want you to know that I'm not going to give up on you."

Soren's heart skipped a beat, and a strange ball of emotion suddenly locked up his throat. He knew that Ike would not abandon him, but to hear it reaffirmed was something that meant a lot to him. Ike probably knew it.

"Thank you," he managed to whisper out.

"And no matter what else comes our way, and whatever other obstacles we have to surmount, you're always going to be the most important person in my life."

Soren had nothing to say to that, stunned into silence by the sincerity of Ike's words. The world around them seemed to have slowed down, the high of their escape finally dying down, and somehow, Soren realized that this is what peace felt like.

Peace felt like the gentle breeze saluting their victory as it danced around them, ruffling Soren's ripped robes and Ike's bloodied hair. Peace felt like the morning sun caressing his exposed skin, heralding their return into the light. Peace felt like the crisp air he could finally breathe, and the ache in his thighs after having held on for dear life, and the sweat glistening on the calm horse's neck telling of a wild fight to regain their freedom.

But most of all, peace felt like Ike's arms, like the warmth of his body and the strength of his hold, the sound of his heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest. Peace felt like the slow staccato of his breaths, like the tremors in his exhausted body, like the subtle shift of his muscles as he continually adjusted his balance on his mount. Peace felt like this moment in still time, and the world could have fallen apart around them and Soren would still have found the cosmos within his arms.

"Let's head back to camp, Ike," Soren suggested in a gravelly voice, gravelly with exhaustion and emotion and something he couldn't quite discern. "We'll grab whatever is still there, let the horse rest, and perhaps we can make tracks towards Culbert today."

"Are you sure we should be traveling in this state?" Ike asked in a low hum, almost as if unwilling to disturb the silence around them by raising his voice. "We should rest, too."

"Let's put some distance between us and the fort first, alright?" he offered the compromise quite readily, glad to be anywhere as long as he was there with Ike.

"I can agree to that." Patting the horse's neck, Ike chuckled gently. "If this troublemaker is willing to have us, that is."

"I suppose that near-death experiences do bring people together. And horses," Soren admitted begrudgingly.

"Let's make tracks." Ike took the reigns in one hand and gently tapped the horse's belly to urge it into a walk. The slow, smooth movement of the horse was a direct contrast to their rushed escape earlier, and Soren had to admit that perhaps this wasn't so bad.

Soren felt warm in the expanse of Ike's hold, and his heartbeat was a lullaby when the horse's undulating movements rocked him to sleep.

"Hey, Soren…?" Ike murmured at some point, but Soren had long since shut his eyes and rested against his chest. When he didn't respond, Ike muffled a low chuckle, and put his cheek on top of Soren's head.

He might've said something else afterward, but Soren was too far gone to hear it.

---

Author's Note

Wow I can't believe Ike and Soren got married and adopted a horse.

I'm not a fan of writing overt romance because I feel like there's a lot you can convey in regards to love between characters without necessarily pitting them in a romantic relationship and all its traditional tropes. That being said, Ike and Soren are gay. Very, very gay. I, as the author, confirm to you that this fic was written with the intent of building up a romantic relationship. I just... really dislike writing traditional romance, so if you really don't ship 'em, I guess this could be read as very intense 'no homo'. I don't judge. Actually, please talk to me if you don't ship 'em, I really would appreciate feedback from someone who's going to look at their relationship from a non-romantic perspective.

Also, not sure if it was mentioned what the Feral drugs did to the Branded, but I just took my experience and knowledge from modern medicine and applied it to fantasy fiction... yeah, that sounded better in my head. I'd be happy to explain it in scientific terms the way I see it, but also, nobody is here for the science (sobs) so I won't.

I really want to write a sequel, or at least snippets of a sequel, because I bet Ike named their horse Ragnell and Soren hates it at least 75 percent of the time. Also, There's no way that Soren doesn't have psychological repercussions from their imprisonment and there's no way that Ike's stab wound didn't get infected, so how's about that PTSD and that septic shock, amirite!?

Anyway, thanks so much for sticking with me on this hell-ride. I really REALLY would appreciate comments and criticism, as I may or may not write for the Tellius games again some day. Also, I just wanna talk about IkeSoren in general, hmu.

-SS

PS: I summoner-supported Ike in FE:H and he's become so goddamn OP that I just... I don't know what to do with him anymore. One man army, just waiting for Soren to come home (SOREN PLEASE COME HOME).