The weather was getting progressively worse. Snow was falling heavily, the wind had picked up strength, and visibility had diminished to the point where Reyson couldn't see more than fifty feet ahead. He plodded through the snow flurries with his head down, glamorous white wings folded around him for warmth, long golden blonde hair whipping his face. The vulneraries clinked around in his pocket. The sound of leafless trees rattling in the wind was the only audible thing that Reyson could hear other than the howling wind itself. The little campfire that he had previously been sitting in front of had died completely and the Heron did not attempt to revive it. The only available light came from the fires that had been lighted within the tents. Each tent that was illuminated had a trail of smoke escaping from the top.
Reyson had already begun his search for the tactician's quarters. All the tents were exactly the same with the exception of the commander's tent, which was slightly larger. A standard issue tent for a regular of the army was still very spacious, allowing two or three cots to be set up, or a cot and a table, still leaving some room left over for storage. The number of tents in the encampment was simply staggering. After all, an entire army was situated here.
'This would be a lot easier if the weather wasn't so horrifying.' Reyson had become very frustrated with the recent turn of events. He contemplated giving up, but then immediately banished the thought. 'A little snow like this won't stop me.' The Heron concluded, as he waded through knee-deep mounds of snow. If anything, this would be the perfect time to meet the mage. At this hour and with the weather so dire, there would be very little to disrupt them.
The White Prince really hoped that the mage had not gone to sleep yet. Reyson reasoned that the mage had not yet gone to bed because it wasn't very late, plus the strategist was probably up doing what he did best – strategizing. Reyson had half a mind to go ask Ike or another Greil Mercenary of the mage's whereabouts, but decided against it. He did not want anybody wondering why the Heron Prince was eagerly searching for the army's tactician during a blizzard.
Soren would definitely not be in the commander's tent since Ike had probably occupied that space already. Also, the commander's tent still functioned as the core of the camp. There would probably be mercenaries and soldiers going in and out with various orders and running errands making it a busy place with lots of people; something that Soren probably didn't enjoy. However, Reyson did not know where else to begin, nor was it out of his way to drop by.
Upon arriving at the entrance of the commander's tent, Reyson was greeted warmly by none other than the company's sniper, Shinon. Even though he was a highly skilled archer, possibly a master of his craft, and a very valuable asset to the Greil Mercenaries, Reyson disliked the bow and arrow toting redhead. As far as Reyson was concerned, Shinon detested the Laguz. He was a complete mess. It looked like he had repeatedly fallen down in the snow.
"Hey, if it isn't Prince Reyson! What's a sub-human like you…hic! doing out on a night like this? Shinon's yelled over the din of the snowstorm, his speech slurred. Oh, that explained why he was caked with snow. Shinon was rip-roaring drunk. "I never knew you Herons… thrived in this sort of weather!"
Reyson's eye's narrowed dangerously. 'Cursed human!' Reyson tried not to let his emotions get the best of him. It was ignorant Beorc like these that had caused the Serenes massacre twenty years ago, and for that, Reyson would never forgive them. A brief vision of the Heron Prince's fist, flying into Duke Tanas' face came to mind. Shinon was someone who really needed such treatment. However, Reyson did break his hand when he punched Oliver.
"Shinon, do you know where Soren might be?" Reyson tried to keep this meeting strictly business and nothing more. If he had warmed up to the conversation any further, he and Shinon probably would have fought. Even though the redhead was intoxicated, the delicate Heron most likely would have lost.
"Soren is an arrogant and…hic! insolent whelp! His tent is somewhere to the… left of Ike's" Shinon drawled. He leaned against a tree for support. "What do you need… of him, half-breed?"
"That's none of your concern, human!" Reyson answered with a scathing remark of his own. Reyson gave an irritated flap of his fluffy white wings producing a cloud of powdery snow, and headed in the direction that Shinon had pointed. As Reyson walked away, Shinon, blinded by the fine snow, stumbled and fell again, a stream of curse words flying from his mouth.
There were two tents to the left of the commander's tent. 'Which one could it be?' Reyson observed that one tent had a fire burning inside of it and the other did not. Not willing to wait outside in the blistering cold any longer, Reyson took his chances. The snow covered Heron positioned himself in front of the sealed tent flap of the faintly glowing tent and called out.
"Soren, are you there?" The voice was stifled and was barely capable of being heard from within the tent.
Soren, sitting at a desk, set his quill down and rubbed his hand which was stiff from writing. He had been doing a little bit of research on Heron Galdrar. It wasn't any serious research but more for his entertainment. He had been trying to translate the lyrics of the Galdr of Rebirth into the Beorc language just to see what it meant. Sadly, the tactician's lack of knowledge of the ancient language was making progress difficult.
'Who could that be?' Soren got up from his seat and stretched. A cheery fire that the mage had lit in the center of the tent had produced plenty of heat, making the tent cozy and warm. The smoke from the blaze was siphoned out through a hole at the top. Soren had discarded a few of his outermost garments, revealing a sleeveless black tunic that exposed much of his pale neck, and matching black robes draped around his body extending to his ankles. His slender porcelain colored arms glistened in the light, as his untied raven locks hung about his shoulders and neck. He got up and untied the tent flap.
To Soren's surprise, in walked a snow covered Prince Reyson, his pretty wings wrapped tightly around his body, and snow flakes decorating his blonde flowing tresses. The Heron Prince had never come to see the tactician in private before and at such an hour. Soren was alarmed. Reyson was stalking him relentlessly. Mixed feelings of helplessness and excitement overcame the usually stolid mage. Like a predator closing in on its prey, Soren felt that he was cornered here in his tent. 'I don't even have all my clothes on, not that it would be displeasing to him!' With crimson orbs fixed on the strikingly beautiful white Heron, Soren's thoughts abruptly changed. Perhaps some time alone with Reyson would be a pleasant and welcome change to his usual solitude.
Reyson, after sweeping the snow off his clothing with his hands and relaxing his wings, looked up to a most astonishing sight. The Heron Prince had just noticed that Soren was lightly dressed. More of his fair white skin was exposed and it glistened in the fire, driving the Heron wild. 'His lovely hair is also unbound. Oh, Goddess. This is almost criminal.'
Soren readily stared back and took note of how the Heron Prince ogled him. His previous suspicions had just been confirmed. There was no doubt that Reyson found him attractive. The mage willingly returned the sentiment. It appeared that every time Soren came across Reyson, he was drawn more and more to the Heron's good looks. 'Look at his emerald green eyes and how the snowflakes adorn his long blonde hair. Mmm, why don't you let me brush them off for you?'
As if on cue, both the tactician and the Heron blushed and broke eye contact. Reyson, remembering why he had come, stepped forward.
"Soren, I believe you dropped these earlier." Reyson dug into his pocket and produced the vulneraries. He tried his best to sound easy-going and friendly, anything that would lighten the air and reduce the tensions between them.
"Oh, thank you Prince Reyson. I was wondering why I had counted a lower number of these when I got back." Soren kept his expression neutral, like how it usually was. He went over to a corner of the tent where the small wooden box he carried earlier had been stored, and put away the vulneraries. He turned around to see Prince Reyson observing the parchment and books on his desk that the mage had been working with before, his pearly wings folded neatly behind him. Reyson could barely conceal his amusement.
"It's a good thing you dropped by. I wanted to ask you about this." Soren explained as he came up to the desk and stood beside the Heron. The black-haired mage picked up the book that had the Galdr of Rebirth in the ancient language written in it and showed it to Reyson.
"You have been trying to translate the lyrics into the Beorc language, I see." Reyson chuckled, a soft melodious sound that was music to Soren's ears. The Heron Prince observed the parchment that had the mage's rough translation scribbled on it, and smiled.
"I didn't do too well, did I?" Soren asked bluntly.
"Well I don't want to sound mean but…yes, this was pretty bad."
Soren laughed. He ran his fingers through his long black locks and eyed Reyson from head to toe.
The Heron set aside the parchment and drummed his fingers on the desk thoughtfully. "For what reason are you trying to do this, might I ask? The song holds no magical properties when sung in a different language."
"I'm not sure. I was just wanted to know what it meant, that's all." Soren reached over and picked up the bottle of ink he was using and reinserted the cork. He placed it back on the desk.
"It's so unlike you to do something out of the blue like this. You're all about practicality and logic usually." Reyson scratched his fair head confusedly, and continued to review the parchment.
"I don't think you know me very well, Prince Reyson."
With a twinkle in his eye, the Heron turned towards Soren. "I would sure like to learn more." Reyson inadvertently looked at the mage's bared neck.
Soren averted his gaze towards the ground and rubbed his cheek, trying to hide his obvious blush. Some of his black tresses covered his face. 'I never knew the White Prince would be one for sweet-talk! Aren't the Herons supposed to be all about purity, innocence and whatnot?' Then again, Reyson did spend lots of time with the Hawk tribe.
Reyson, noticing Soren's bashfulness, smiled warmly and pressed on. "I would be more than happy to translate it for you right here, by singing it in the Beorc tongue."
Crimson orbs looked up into emerald green eyes. "Could you? That would be great."
Soren, still blushing furiously, took a seat on the soft cot at the rear of the tent and pulled back the raven tresses covering his eyes so as not to obscure his vision. The tactician was rather eager to hear the Heron's song up front. The only other time when he heard the Galdr of Rebirth was when Reyson and Leanne had sung a duet in order to revive the Serenes Forest.
Reyson turned to face his audience of one, cleared his throat, and took a few deep breaths in order to relax. He did not want to mess up his performance in front of his crush. When he felt he was ready, he closed his eyes and began.
Endless grief and sorrow
Hearts slumbering again
Stars frozen in their place
Darkness envelopes the land
But in the spilling of blood
a hope still glimmers dim
in a reflection in the water
in a whisper in the wind
Gather your courage
It will break the bonds of night
Take wing, and dance upon the sky
Take wing, and dance upon the sky
The Heron's song was absolutely mesmerizing. Even though it didn't trigger any sort of spell, the song still had a soothing effect. The tactician stared at the angelic White Prince who almost glowed in the light from the fire. He had never heard such a fine voice before. Reyson had sung all the notes perfectly and was never off key or rhythm. The mage was smitten.
"That was outstanding." The tactician commended. Soren's expression held nothing but pure amazement. "My translation wasn't close at all."
Reyson laughed softly. "It felt kind of odd singing it in Beorc tongue, but I managed." Reyson said, while pulling out the chair to take a seat next to Soren's cot. "I'm glad you liked it."
The noise of the fire crackling lightly and the wind howling outside was the only sound heard, as the eyes of the Heron and the mage bore into each other's.
Reyson's eyes briefly examined the mark on Soren's forehead. 'There's the brand.'
Reyson broke the silence, "May I ask you a personal question, if you don't mind?"
"Of course you can." Soren responded evenly, shifting to a more comfortable position on the white cot, crimson orbs never glancing away from the beautiful Heron.
"That mark of yours, on your forehead. That's no mark of a spirit charmer." Reyson solemnly reached out and touched the brand on Soren's forehead.
Soren shrunk back a little. "What? I don't know what you mean…" The mage averted his gaze yet again, but not for the same reason as before.
Reyson had hit a soft spot. He was aware that Soren's mood had suddenly become withdrawn and introverted. The Heron Prince did not want to make the tactician uncomfortable or upset, but if they were to be friends, Reyson would have him speak the truth.
Reyson leaned forward in his chair, glittering light dancing off his predominantly white demeanor. "It would do you no good trying to hide it, Soren. It is merely the nature of the Laguz to perceive such things."
Soren frowned. "If you already know this then why bring it up?" The mage sighed and shuffled his sandaled feet uncertainly on the soft earthen floor.
"The question doesn't end there. I would like to know how you lived your life."
"Why would anyone like to hear such a disgusting and horrifying tale?"
Soren's emotional pain ran deep. Many years of his treacherous and unstable life had really spent him. Reyson could nearly feel the turmoil and chaos running unchecked within the tactician.
Soren glared at Reyson. "And why would a Laguz like you, be so sympathetic to someone like me?" The touchy subject had Soren on edge. His visage, initially friendly and pleasant, had turned icy and hostile.
The Heron Prince gave the mage an apologetic look. "Soren, I understand that my Laguz brothers and sisters ignore you for who you are." Reyson said quietly. "On behalf of them, I am sorry." Reyson reached over and took up Soren's smaller hand in his own. "Please accept my apology."
The mage blinked several times, trying to conceal the tears welling up in his ruby eyes, long black tresses falling in front of his face. No Laguz from any tribe had ever broached the issue of relations between the Branded and the Laguz, much less apologized for their actions. The White Prince had been so sincere in asking for forgiveness that his words touched his stone cold heart.
Instead of thanking him for his apology, Soren continued. "I've never had parents or knew who they were. A woman used to take care of me, but she did not love me as a parent loved their child. Oftentimes, she would tell me to stay away from her…" Soren's voice trailed off. His crimson eyes had lost focus, as if he were no longer in the tent.
"When I was about the age of four, a sage, deceived by the brand on my forehead took me in, thinking I was a spirit charmer. The old sage did not have much time left, and he needed an apprentice to which he could pass on his magical abilities." Soren's voice was shaky as he spilled out the story of his darkest days to his Heron friend. Reyson, still holding Soren's hand, listened intently.
"I trained without rest, until the sage's passed away two years later, at which point I was left alone. I realized that I would need to be able to sustain myself once the food in the departed sage's domicile was expended. I had no knowledge of how to speak either. I could read and write, understand what other people said, but I could not utter a single word. I wandered throughout Gallia on the brink of death, the Laguz walking past me without even hesitating or thinking twice…"
Without warning, Reyson leaned over and hugged the mage. "Oh Soren, I'm so sorry."
Soren, choking back tears, returned the hug and buried his face into the Heron's clothes and neck. "It's okay Prince Reyson. You don't need to apologize or assume responsibility for the fault of others."
Reyson broke from the hug and sat next to Soren on the cot, one white wing draping around the mage to cuddle him and hold him close. Blonde flowing tresses mingled with long raven locks as Soren leaned his head against the Heron's shoulder.
Reyson felt embarrassed for having such shallow thoughts of the mage and truly felt remorseful. Instead, his earlier infatuation was replaced by something more. The Heron's love for Soren had become genuine.
Soren resumed his story, whispering softly in between sniffles. "And then I remember Ike and his father taking me in." The Heron Prince tilted his fair head closer to Soren in order to hear him better, the mage's warm breath tickling his ear and face. "They fed me and cared for me like I was one of them. That's why I am such good friends with Ike. He's family to me and the Greil Mercenaries are my home."
"I always knew you and Ike had some special bond." The Heron whispered back. "I can feel it in you. You hold a special place in your heart for Ike."
In the ensuing moment of silence, the White Prince nuzzled the mage's head, causing a heartwarming sensation to overcome the mage. Reyson was so tender and affectionate to the point where Soren felt safe and secure in the embrace of the Heron Prince, a feeling that he had never experienced before. Reyson was someone who the mage could place his complete trust in. Soren always had doubts whether or not Ike and the Greil Mercenaries would accept him for being one of the branded. One way or another, Soren would eventually let Ike know who he really was. The White Prince gave him the confidence to do so.
Much time had passed since Reyson had stepped inside the tent; the small fire in the center of the floor began to die down, red embers becoming faint. Soren felt nice and warm with Reyson's white wing encircling him, the feathers had such a soft and fluffy texture to them. Soren had trouble keeping his eyes open and began to doze.
"It's late Soren. We need to get up early tomorrow." The Heron got up and gently laid the mage out on the cot and covered his small robed body with the thick blanket. Soren's raven locks sprawled out on the pillow.
"Goodnight, Soren." The Heron turned towards the tent flap but was hindered when Soren grasped his hand.
"Please, Prince Reyson, sleep here for the night. The cot has enough room for the both of us and I don't want you walking back through the snow." Soren rolled over to the side of the cot, creating ample room.
Reyson hesitated a little, but then complied. "Is that the only reason you have for wanting me to sleep with you?"
Soren looked up from the pillow as he flushed red again, the corners of his mouth beginning to curl into a tiny smile. "Oh stop it, Prince Reyson."
The Heron removed the circlet from his head and set it down on the desk. Smoothing out his long blonde hair and kicking off his white boots, the Heron Prince lay down on the cot, angelic wings folding tidily behind him. Reyson snaked an arm around the mage's waist and kissed his bare shoulder, the mage snuggling close to the Heron. Blonde and raven hair interlaced with one another as they lay there, slowly drifting off to sleep.
"Soren?"
"Hmm?"
"If you ever need a place to stay, come to the Serenes Forest. There, you will always have a place you can call home."
