Disclaimer: Fire Emblem is solely owned by Intelligent Systems. TearRing Saga belong to Shouzou Kaga. That one non-canon character that will be revealed belatedly is mine.
Chapter 2: A Primal, Crushing Defeat
"Good morning, Cheine!" A cheerful voice greeted the redhead.
He waved back, holding back a yawn as he walked into the facility. "Good morning, Asvel." A thumb to a scanner marked him present, and he looked around himself to see that he was early today.
"You did eat breakfast, did you?" His friend and coworker asked, giving him a concerned expression. It looked like he had time to address to his silver hair. His blue eyes shined with morning energy.
Cheine gave back a natural smile; warm and sunny with happy, closed eyes. He nodded as well, still too tired to make much conversation.
"Sweet! I had yams this morning, and they were very good. Are you ready to start?" He sat down on a table and pulled out various metal parts. Cheine sat across from him and mirrored his movements and began to piece them with Asvel together. Soon, with the aid of various tools, the skeleton of a handgun began to form.
"I already am."
They worked in silence, the only sounds in the quiet factory being all of his coworkers' breaths and the clink of small pieces of metal. The weather was perfectly crisp and wonderful: not too hot, not too cold; not too humid, not too weather was always perfect, wasn't it?
"Oh, did you know? I heard that a Minor Saint was visiting today," Asvel said quietly, tightening a screw in and snapping pieces together. "Oh, I'm almost out of crystals." He waved his hand up in the sky, and a servant-worker came over, silent and waiting for her orders. She was a thin thing and had long, white hair. She wore the standard uniform of a person of her caliber, with a generic short under a black vest, with a long, black skirt, as customary for the lady servants. A name tag pinned to her vest read "Alicia." "Can you get me three more boxes of crystals?"
"Of course, sir." She bowed and went off in her way, each of her movements… just so painfully rigid, at least to Cheine's eyes.
"Three?" He asked his companion. The blue-haired child nodded in reply.
"One for you, just in case," he explained, and put a crystal into its holding area, before sealing it off, never again to meet the light of day.
"And you said something about a Minor Saint?" Cheine prompted. He was already finished, and put one gently into an empty box, ready to receive its newest shipment of firearms.
Asvel's eyes brightened at the word of "Saint," just like how anyone else would. "It's Minor Saint Moulder, although a strange man with pale hair is with him this time as well… He looks to be from Lumen's inner circle… What do you think?"
Cheine shrugged, compiling the necessary materials into a messy pile. It contrasted with Asvels' neat rows and columns, but to each their own, he supposed. "If he's wearing fancier clothes, then it only makes sense."
"Fair enough. He had a pretty headband, too."
Cheine would once say that he wanted a pretty headband as well, but he already got his very own from his best friend.
Small talk like this continued, and the sun began to slowly greet the workers through a small window high up in the building. The servant brought them their extra crystals and went back to her station, always at attention for her next request. It was quiet and peaceful, and the redhead found himself working autonomously, not quite awake and not quite asleep, only stirred from his haze at the few times when Asvel would remind him to keep his headscarf up.
"Maybe you should get a better one. It's been all used up, and it doesn't look nice anymore," he pointed out after Cheine had to pull it over his scarlet hair again.
"I can't. We can't afford it, not right now, at least. Maybe if we have enough left over from Lewyn and mine's pay, then…" He nearly dropped a few outlying tools to the floor, managing to catch them all at the last second. He finished the gun he was working on and carefully placed it next to its eight other brothers. "What was our quota again… twenty-four by the end of the day?"
"Yes. Twenty-four each," Asvel affirmed. "How many have you done?"
Cheine sighed and set asides the partly-formed firearm and stretched his arms up, each finger bone cracking from the strain. "I'm on my tenth one, and you are too, right?"
"Yup! We can make our quota today, I'm sure of it!"
After a quick break for lunch, they immediately went back to work, busily arranging circuits and metal and crystal together. "Oh, how are Eric and Ephrath? Are they doing well with their studies?"
"Oh! They're splendid! I'm jealous, in all honesty. It's such an honor to study under a saint! Unfortunately, I'm much too small…" Asvel pouted childishly, nearly messing up a screw in the process. "I'm capable too! I'm sure I can do it…"
Cheine smiled and reached across the table to pat his arm as a gesture of comfort and support. "I'm sure one day you can finally perform miracles as well," he reassured.
The silver-haired boy was quick to snap out of his momentary longing. He flashed back a grin and set himself right to work again. "I know, I know. But maybe the goddesses had deemed that now was not the best of times… Every person has their role within their fate, and I'm more than happy to serve the people the best that I could." It was an exemplar speech for any patriotic denizen of Lux, which should make Cheine's heart swell up with pride for his younger companion, but instead, a sick feeling sunk to his stomach, which he hid with a perfect, small smile from himself.
Cheine was waiting patiently at the traffic light for the pedestrians on the opposing side of the road to cross when he saw a familiar flash of long, chocolate hair. He walked over to it as fast as he can and cried out happily, "Forseti!"
Said man turned around, and the young woman next to him did the same. She has longer blonde hair, perfectly straight, smooth and soft.
"Hi, Ephrath!" Cheine greeted as well, and soon stood to the side of the coming and going walkers. They all pressed themselves to the wall and watched the passers-by go through their daily lives. "So, how come you two are together?" He knew that he and his family were rather close with the twins and their charge, Asvel, but it wasn't as if they lived close together. And besides, since when was the last time Forseti ever went outside?
"We just happened to collide in our paths," she explained. She waved her hand animatedly while talking, as if she was to act out all her words for everyone else to see as well. "We made some small talk while walking together. It turns out, we had the same destination in mind! Isn't that right, Mr. Forseti?"
Said man smiled, even if for just a bit. "Yes, absolutely. Would you care to come along?"
Cheine laughed and shook his head. "Sorry, but today is kitchen duty for me. Maybe another time?"
"Perhaps." Forseti gave Cheine a pat on the head. "Oh, and I won't be home today, so Eric will be looking over you and Lewyn in my place."
There was a sudden murmur that rippled through the streets in the midst of their conversation, and the people parted quietly for two obviously distinguished people. One had ordinary brown hair and a middle-aged face, wrinkles just starting to show prominence. He wore the white robes and the silver designs of a Minor Saint. His companion had similar pale, silver hair and a soft face… That was also very attractive… and he smelled nice. Very nice.
Cheine hid in the crowd's shadow and pulled his headscarf further over his crimson hair, suddenly feeling very, very insecure, even as his feet urged him towards the stranger. A hand went to his shoulder, and he looked up. Forseti looked back, his eyes portraying understandment, and after he kindly pat him on the head again, nudged him towards the direction back home.
He stole a glance at the beautiful man once more, and even as the pair approached Forseti and Ephrath, their eyes met oh-so-mysteriously. With quick turn of the head back to where he needed, with pinker cheeks to boot, Cheine rushed himself back home as fast as he could without arousing disgruntlement from the fellow pedestrians.
After a few minutes, he slowed down his pace and did his best to control his rapidly beating heart. No creature should ever be so gorgeous… ever. He put a hand to the wall and ambled his way back home.
He couldn't get his mind off of the silver-haired stranger. His pretty eyes. His soft smile. His even softer hair. He must have a wonderful voice too… but most alluring of all was his scent. Everything about the man was hypnotizing, like something straight out of an absent-minded daydream constructed out of a twisted hybrid of boredom and desire. An angelic creature, blessed by the goddesses...
Something screamed at him. Greater than desire, greater than… was it lust? Wasn't lust illegal? What is lust?
"Hello there!"
Cheine knew that it was his voice.
"You are Forseti's ward, am I correct?"
Don't look.
"I couldn't help but notice you…"
It wasn't lust. His presence, his scent, his voice… it was attracting him, like how one might be attracted towards the horror of carnage.
"Excuse me, young one-"
What is a "carnage"?
"Are you alright?"
Listen to every word. Obey every word.
No. Something primal in him screamed out No.
No. No. NO. NO. NO.
Cheine looked up. The stranger really was beautiful. From how he felt, he must be sweating bullets. He couldn't trust himself to speak without his voice, and willpower, breaking.
"I-I-I'm fine." But he did it anyways. Someone help him. Someone save him.
"Oh. Do you need a hand?"
No. Touching would make it worse.
"An escort home?" His voice was so kind, assuring him peace.
Holsety. Lewyn. Chase. Salamander. Holmes. Hector. RunanIkeReeseYuneAnriBantuGotohWherearethedragonsNagahasthedragonsButwherearethedragons-
Luci.
Someone. Help.
"Oh, Cheine, there you are!"
Like a breath of fresh wind, the voice cleared through the strange desire-fear-filled haze in his mind.
Cheine stood up straight and smiled at Lewyn, who was previously waving at him down from the street before coming over towards him. "Lewyn!" he greeted.
He looked back at the stranger. He had a very beautiful smile. He smiled back, and believed just for a bit that his own was much brighter. "Thanks. I feel a bit better now. It must just be a faint spell…"
"I'm glad to see that." His eyes twinkled with light and goodness, and the worst part was, he was sincere about it.
No, wait, sincerity is good.
"I'm Cheine," he spoke up, and somehow had the courage to bring his hand out. The stranger shook it.
"I'm Saleh, a friend of Minor Saint Moulder. I hope we may meet again," he responded back in kind. "If you have an issue like that again, then don't be afraid to ask me. I am a doctor, after all." His words seemed more like a splendid song that no one could understand, simply listened to for its beauty. And his hands…
No. None of that, Cheine. None of that.
"Of course." Cheine dropped his hand, and only then did he feel the encroaching cramp from being so tense. It were sweaty too, more so out of… it wasn't heat, that's all Cheine knew.
A different hand slipped into his own, cooler and more familiar. "I hoped he didn't cause too much trouble. This happens at times," Lewyn explained. It didn't, but Cheine cared more for relief and comfort than the fact that his brother-figure lied. "Let's go home. It's your turn to cook, after all."
That much was very true.
This time, when he went back home, swinging hands with his second guardian for a few moments before disconnecting (he wasn't a child anymore, after all), he didn't look back.
Cheine was just done, and the sun was holding onto its last rays of light when there was a knock upon the door. Four strong ones, actually. He immediately knew who it was and beat Lewyn to the door, opening it grandiosely. "Eric, it's so good to see you!" he cried out loud with his arms out wide. The headscarf he usually wore fell down in his excitement, which no one, at least this friend of his, really cared. The lean soldier-in-training laughed and wrapped his arms around his old friend, nudging Lewyn a bit was he entered their own home. He held a packaged box, wrapped in paper.
"It's good to see you too. Oh! And where may I place this? Forseti received a package from a friend…" He looked around the place. Unfortunately, the countertop was filled to the brim of junk, utensils, and a few spice bottles here and there.
Cheine laughed nervously and took the parcel from Eric. "I'll put it in our room. Come sit down! I just finished making dinner!" he cheerfully invited. Both Lewyn and the other blond-haired man chuckled at his youthful energy. He may be 18, but he often still acted half his own age.
As Cheine went upstairs and searched for a safe place to put the package, the two quietly sat down on a seat, sitting straight across from each other. They both gave small, kind smiles, before it was immediately dropped.
Silence filled the room until Lewyn spoke up. "Father has been acting… strange nowadays. He's been going out far much more than he usually would as well. Is there anything like that with your sister?" he asked. He fingered a fork, twirling it as carefully as humanly possible in his hand. Concern and confusion remained on his face.
Eric sighed and shrugged. "I wish I could tell you. Ephrath's been… tense. That's all I know." He played around with a spoon, tapping rhythms lightly onto a table, alternating stronger and lighter beats. taptap-Tap-tap TapTap…
"And you? Are you alright?"
Eric looked up. "I'm fine. It's just that…" He sighed again. "I'm worried for my sister, is all. We'll be in the army the next year, never to see you both and Forseti ever again, as well as Asvel. It sucks, you know?"
Lewyn smiled and reached over to his friend and gently grasped his hands. "You'll be fine. And one day, we'll meet each other again in heaven, just like how we all do. Don't fret too much, as we all will keep you in our prayers."
He opened his mouth to say something, but seeing Cheine return to them on the dinner table, he quickly closed it again, his worried expression melting away into gentle happiness, the one that someone shows when eating a good meal with a better friend that they have not seen in a long time.
Tonight, there was a generous amount of meat compared to what the rations usually had, and Cheine had done the liberty of preparing it in different ways: roast beef, deep-fried chicken, and even a small portion of lamb, accompanied by yet another salad.
"Too bad that Forseti and Ephrath can't eat cooking this good," their guest remarked while happily chowing down on the meal. He was currently experiencing pure bliss, turning his heart away from the rest of the world to relish in the delectable food. Lewyn and Cheine laughed at his silly expression and enjoyed themselves as well, and in that moment, Cheine forgot about fear, oppression, and a stranger's unwanted allure.
It was when the dishes were all washed and the table cleared up that they sat back and relaxed in their seats, each with a cup of tea around a plain teapot in the center.
"Oh yeah, before I forget, Asvel won't be coming to work tomorrow," Eric spoke to Cheine. He nodded in response. It wasn't too strange of a thing. Oftentimes, the twins would be out for some lesson and bring their along as well. "And, Ephrath told me that she and Forseti would be out for the rest of the night with him and return in the morning, so I'll be staying here tonight." They looked out of the window that Forseti usually sat by; it was already dark out, and most likely past curfew.
They continued to sit and chat. Sometime during the evening, one of them lit a few candles and brought it over, so now each person was illuminated by its light, the rest of the room dimmer in comparison.
"What was that all about with that man, Cheine?" Lewyn asked him sometime later.
His heart skipped a beat. "W-what man?"
"The one you were speaking to. In the alleyway."
Eric raised an eyebrow and took a sip. "Who?"
"It's nothing," Cheine mumbled and swept his eyes to the side to avoid Lewyn's worried gaze.
"Would you know of him, Eric? Gray hair, I think, with a headband and robes like the ones worn by nobles…" Lewyn asked the other instead, most likely hoping for a more cooperative answer.
"Hm… That sounds like Sir Saleh. I've heard of him. No one is quite sure what he does, but the Major Saints think he's important for some reason." The blond-haired man shrugged. "I'm not sure, and I don't really care to know. You met him, Cheine?"
How was he supposed to answer that? 'Ah, yes, I did, and I nearly fell down from how attractive he was, but he's also really scary for some reason, so the next time I see him, I really need to book it' didn't seem like an appropriate answer.
So, apparently, a squeaked-out "yeah" was a better reply.
The reply sent Lewyn laughing, then almost coughing up tea. Eric smirked at them but said nothing. Cheine turned his head away, frowning.
They thought he was blushing.
Unfortunately, they usually talked very late into the night, and Cheine didn't have a viable excuse to dodge out of the incoming teasing, as he was working the overnight shift tomorrow.
"Crap."
A/N:
Some notes: "Cheine" is one of the fan-translations for Xane before the SD remake was localized. Eirika and Ephraim are here, but aren't using their actual names... for now. *belches from using Holsety and Levin's localized names*
I belatedly realized that there was an abnormal amount of SS crew here... Oh well! :D
I edited the last chapter a bit. I'd like to thank Hammerschlag for pointing out a spelling error in Maribelle's name.
I'm terrible with summaries and I should probably change the current one... Idk, I'll update this when I do.
Comments, reviews, criticism, flames, are all welcome!
