So my first stroy is yaoi ; Oh well.
Just playing with the idea of Soren x Shirmir. I think it's a funny pairing.
I don't own Fire Emblem or it's characters.
Muttering "idiocy," for the tenth time, Soren forced himself to stop pacing and think. They could only retreat now. Retreat, and hope the central army wouldn't catch up. With so many wounded, a three day lead might not be enough. And that was If they really had a three day truce. Granted, the mercenary company was an independent party now, and didn't have to leave Begnion. But the tactician doubted that mattered to the senate. They would likely be attacked--no questions asked.
A loud knock-borderline banging-at the door to his chambers, caused Soren to jump. With a sigh he composed himself and opened the door.
"Skirmir? What are you doing here? You and your men should be gone by now. Or have you forgotten that Begnion's army is chasing you?"
"You're not happy to see me. I don't blame you. This is my fault. If--"
"There's little to be done about that now. Apologizing is pointless. Especially if the central army catches you before you make it to Gallia. Now, what are you doing here?" The sage crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Skirmir's complete lack of common sense. The lion general seemed momentarily speechless. Soren was about to close the door in his face-his hand already closing over the handle-when the laguz surprised him by laughing. Loudly. And the tactician had already opened his mouth to tell the lion to shut up and go away, when Skirmir doubled over, dripping blood on the stone flooring. "Skirmir?"
"I'm fine. These wounds are nothing. They will heal quickly." He grunted, forcing himself to stand upright.
"Don't lie to me. You're not even in condition to be standing right now. Shouldn't Ranulf and several strong men be forcing you to lie down?" Soren let his hand fall from the door handle. The lion laguz couldn't possibly stay long at any rate. The general laughed again, but less heartily than before.
"You continue to amaze me, little strategist."
"Mm-hm. Glad I could be of service." Soren turned and walked back into his room. He tried to busy himself with the mercenary company's affairs, hoping Skirmir would tire and leave. But, the laguz general persisted.
"You are busy for such a tiny beorc. Don't you ever rest?"
"It's difficult to rest when someone is always disturbing me." Soren tried to catch the laguz's eye, but he was staring at the papers on the desk.
"What are all these notes for?"
"Skirmir, you're supposed to be retreating. Or do you want to face Begnion's full force?"
"Ranulf is still making preparations. I did not wish to lie in bed until he finished."
"Does he know where you are?"
"You act like he's my nanny."
"He might as well be. You lack the common sense to care for yourself."
"This is about my not wanting to negotiate a treaty?"
"No. That wouldn't have been a problem if you hadn't accepted Zelgius's duel. But, as I said, there is little to be done about that now." Soren stacked the papers in a corner of the desk and placed his tome on top of them, forcing the laguz general to look at him. "You should be resting until Ranulf is ready to move out. I don't care how strong you say you are, your body will collapse. And it will do so without your conscious consent." Skirmir blinked. "What?"
"You are not afraid to tell me off." The lion sounded impressed.
"I'm not afraid of you. I'm told you listen to me. So, perhaps, it will sink in if I tell you to get some rest."
"Ranulf put you up to this?" Skirmir looked ready to run out of the room and hunt his adviser down.
"Ranulf, Ike, Titania, King Tibarn... Skirmir, look at me when I'm speaking to you." Soren waited for the general's attention to center on him. "If I ask you to lay down and rest--or merely sit and wait--would you do so?"
"Hmmm... Maybe I could stand to sit still and wait, if..."
"If what?" The tactician asked impatiently. The lion laguz grinned widely.
"If I could stay with you."
"Excuse me?"
"You are a very interesting little strategist. I would like to sit and talk with you."
"Not if you begged me. Now, get out and go pester Ranulf." Soren turned his back on the laguz to draw curtains across his window. It was getting late, and the setting sun was creating more of a headache.
"You are still angry with me." Skirmir's face fell.
"I'm not angry with you." He turned to face the laguz once more. "How many times do I have to say that?"
"I messed up your strategy."
"Yes, Skirmir. I know that," Soren sighed. "Stop beating yourself up... That's a metaphor, Skirmir. If you're just going to whine about it, then I am kicking you out."
"You weren't before?"
"I considered it. Look, if you're not leaving, at least sit down and let me tend to your wounds. You're bleeding all over my floor." The sage indicated the chair by the desk. Skirmir sat obediently.
"Have you always worked for Ike?" Skirmir asked.
"I don't appreciate you prying in my affairs." Soren responded coldly.
"I-- ...apologize. I merely wanted to know more about you."
"Mmm. You shouldn't care." The sage moved to retrieve salve from among his things. The laguz winced as he applied it.
"But you are an amazing little beorc. Do you really have a magic hat you pull your ideas out of?"
"Where in Tellius did you hear that? Of course I don't. That's absurd. Hold this." Soren placed the container of salve in Skirmir's hands as he wrapped a fresh bandage around the lion's arm. "Now, where else are you wounded?" The laguz general did not reply. "Skirmir? I asked you a question."
"You really don't like me? We cannot be friends?"
"Excuse me? That has nothing to do with--"
"Then I will tell you something. Soren, I admire you."
"What? I think the smell of salve has gone to your head. How much blood have you lost? Do you know?" Soren made to place the lid on the container of salve. Skirmir pulled the much smaller sage into his lap and gathered him into a bear-like embrace. "S-Skirmir! Release me at once!" Soren soon gave up his struggles, the lion general had him far outmatched in strength.
"Will you give me a chance, little strategist?" For all his size, Skirmir sounded quite small at that moment.
"It doesn't matter whether or not I give you a chance. As soon as you find out that-- ... you won't like me much longer."
"What do you mean?"
"Haven't you noticed yet, Skirmir? Don't I smell weird to you?"
"You don't smell quiet like other beorc... But why does that matter?"
"You really are clueless." Soren sighed. "Will you let go of me? You have somewhere to be, remember?"
"I'll let go if you tell me."
"...Fine. I'm branded. Do you know what that means?"
"No."
"Of course not." The sage sighed again. Skirmir allowed Soren to wriggle out of his grasp. He picked up the container of salve from where it had fallen to the ground, and handed it to the tactician.
"It means that my blood is mixed. Tainted. It consists of both beorc and laguz." Soren continued, taking the container from Skirmir with a nod.
"That is not a problem."
"Heh. You don't get it, do you? I'm nothing. An abomination. Cursed by the Goddess herself."
"Then I will defy the Goddess. I say that you are something." The general stood and moved toward Soren, who backed away shaking his head.
"You don't know what you're getting into."
"...No. This time, I do. I thought about it."
"Did you? That's a first."
"Please, little strategist. Give me one chance. I swear that I won't mess it up."
"...You'd better not."