The young fire mage coaxed his flames to new heights, tendrils reaching over the nearby treetops and heat making the leaves shrink away. He was careful to keep the fire in the middle of the clearing, away from the innocent plants, twisting and shaping the tongues of flame to his will. Even though he could feel how much the blaze wanted to spread and consume everything around them, Tormod fed the fire with his magic instead so it happily obeyed his commands. He practiced with it, guiding it around the clearing, lashing at invisible enemies, but always pulling back before anything else burned.
Unbeknownst to the mage, there was another who had seen the flames licking over the treetops and come to investigate. The heron prince could sense the trees' fear, but they weren't in pain—not yet. Reyson had to get to the bottom of it, and, if necessary, he would do what he could to save the forest.
The heron followed the smoke and heat cautiously. (He was reminded of another time, another place, trying to run away from the inferno, closing in on all sides, everywhere, everything burning—he pushed the memories aside. This was a new day and he wasn't helpless anymore.) He walked faster, away from the memories and towards the danger.
When he reached the edge of the clearing, he saw why the fire hadn't spread: it was magefire, not yet released from the spirits' hold. And it was Tormod controlling it, the beorc child who earned his camaraderie with his dreams for a better future for the laguz. He watched in silence, the way the tongues of flame danced for the little mage, following the patterns laid out by his spells. The mage allowed the blaze to spread across the bare ground, covering a vast area that could provide defensive cover for a good dozen of their men.
Tormod kept expanding the wall of fire, bringing it higher and wider and hotter and brighter. Tendrils licked at the leaves at the edge of the clearing, and sparks jumped out to land in the trees. The greenery wailed in panic, and Reyson heard their cries. He turned back to the young mage, opening his mouth to tell him to pull it back, but he faltered when he saw the boy's face. Reflected in the flickering light, he could see the smile, the gleam in his eyes, the joy, the laughter as his fire consumed the defenseless leaves. The laughter echoed in Reyson's memory, the faces of beorc that reveled in the destruction of Serenes dancing in his mind's eye. The blaze was too hot on his skin, the fire too bright in his eyes, the sparks too close to his wings. The boy—his friend—had looked for just a moment like the monsters who had burned his home. He shut his eyes against the flare and let out a strangled cry as he slid to the ground.
Tormod immediately whipped his head around at the sound. He saw the figure of the heron kneeling on the ground with his hands over his head, blocking out the flames. Quickly, with a broad swoop of his hands, he extinguished the entire clearing in one big whoosh. Checking quickly that no embers had escaped his command, he rushed over to his fallen comrade.
"Shh, shh, you're safe now. The fire can't hurt you. No one will hurt you ever again." The leader of the Laguz Emancipation Army murmured the words out of habit, the words he always used when some newly-freed laguz slave reacted badly to his magic. His arms wound comfortingly around the slender heron, stroking his hair and continuing to reassure him.
Reyson came to his senses quickly. He sat up straight—the mage's arms let him go—and assumed his usual countenance. "I'm sorry. I overreacted for a moment there."
Tormod shook his head. "Not a problem. I'm kind of used to this reaction to my practicing. That's why I came out here to do it alone." At his companion's curious glance, he continued, "I'm used to practicing in out-of-the-way places because the beasts in the Emancipation Army don't really like it. Mostly they just know to stay away when I'm working. Sometimes, though, when newbies who we just recently freed accidentally stumble in, they get scared and react badly. So I'm used to it." He shrugged like it was no big deal.
"Oh," the prince responded. "That must be rough for you," he added sympathetically, for he could see through the nonchalant charade to the boy's troubled heart.
Tormod doodled with his finger in the dirt. "Yeah, sometimes. I don't want them to be scared of me, because I want to help them. But I can't just not practice, because how else will I control it? I have to be really, really, good at controlling the fire, otherwise I could hurt one of them during a battle, and that would be worse. And I've gotta do something, you know? Fire magic is the only way I can fight, can help free the slaves, make a difference…" He looked up at the heron, almost pleading for understanding.
"I understand," his friend answered. "It must be tough for you, living among laguz and wanting to help them, yet you are the one thing that they have learned to fear. I used to hate beorc, but recently I've learned that there are those like you, and General Ike, and Apostle Sanaki, who make efforts to heal the harm that other beorc have caused."
"Yeah." The boy nodded in agreement. "I just sometimes think it would be easier if I was really Muarim's son. Then I wouldn't have to work so hard at scenting and tracking, or fitting in with the others in the desert, or learning to fight with weapons. I'd just be a tiger with claws and fangs and no one would say I was a traitor to my race just for wanting to make things right." The boy huffed with a longsuffering disappointment. "But then, I wouldn't really be making up for things as much. Sometimes, it's good that I'm a beorc and my being there teaches the former slaves that not all beorc are bad. Like how I got to be friends with you. Plus, if I were a tiger, I would be afraid of the fire, not be able to control it to keep my friends safe."
The heron nodded in understanding. "Yes. I know how magic works. It calls to you, and there isn't much you can do to ignore the call. So you're better off learning to master it, even if there's something else you'd rather do, because you're better at whatever your calling is."
"Exactly," the fire mage agreed. "But…" he began a little shyly, "if you don't mind my asking, why were you so afraid of the fire? Shouldn't you be more afraid of the Wind, since you're bird tribe?"
Reyson's face took on a very old and wizened expression, and his voice was cold and logical. "The worst that Wind can do is to break my wings. The pain is excruciating, but it heals in time. I have my own magic to protect me, so I don't fear the Wind anymore. But fire…" He got a very faraway look in his eyes, one that spoke of hundreds of years of experience and pain. "Fire harms more than the flesh. It brings pain beyond the physical, and scars that never heal. I can cope with pain in my body, and heal wounds of the flesh. But I can't bring back my people, my country, my family, my home, and all of the happy years that we could have spent together."
The prince shook his head as if to clear it from unpleasant thoughts. He looked back at Tormod and explained, "It was beorc with torches and tomes who burned Serenes. I know you're not like that; you use your fire magic to defend laguz, not slaughter them. But just for a second there, the memories of that night came back." He cast his eyes aside in …shame? Embarrassment? Either way, he shook it off. When he saw the mage about to say something, he cut him off. "Not your fault. It is my own pain to bear, not yours. You are only a child, but you bear so much of others' pain for them. You needn't take mine."
Tormod didn't quite know what to say. He settled for a simple but heartfelt, "Thank you, I guess."
The heron prince nodded with finality and rose to his feet. "I'll leave you to your practicing, I suppose."
The mage rose, too. "Nah, I think I'm done for now. I'll head back with you."
And they made their way through the woods together, turning their backs on fear and pain and hopeless wishing.
A/N: Path of Radiance's limited supports always make me feel bad when someone doesn't have a buddy. Reyson only has support options with Ike,—who's too busy earning Soren's trust to spare more than maybe one conversation with Reyson—Tanith,—whom I don't use so it's kind of impossible and useless—and Tormod—who's pretty busy pestering Sothe. So Reyson never really has an A-support buddy. His closest friend is Tormod's B-support. But I still think they have a really great friendship dynamic going on, and I wrote a drabble about it.