Dear Readers,

Thank you all for the hits! Wow, I'm really amazed anyone is reading anything of mine.
I'm very grateful to everyone who's even just glanced at it. Well, here's a thank you gift, two more chapters!
I'm sorry about the earlier mix up with the updating of the first and then the third chapters. I fixed that, so I hope no one notices that it was wrong;

Also, I wanted to say (because I didn't say it before), kudos to everyone who wrote an Ico fanfic.
I hope I didn't come across too whiny when I said other authors had different opinions of the game than I did;
but as a matter of fact, the game is open to just about any theory anyone can think of, because the basic characters, very little plot or story. Also, because of this, it's hard to come up with anything fun or exciting, because, as beautiful and detailed and great it was to play the game, and despite the lack of satisfaction at the end of the game, you WANT more, but there's nothing to work ON.

As I type my fanfiction, I have been reading all of the others for clues, hints, ideas, suggestions, and writing styles to keep me going until I come to a conclusion. I have to admit that I didn't have any idea where I was going with this until just lately, and I hope I can make it fun to read and go through with it before anyone gets too bored waiting.

Again, thank you everyone, fans of games and TV shows and everything else that inspire others to be creative, because the world needs to be creative, and I hope that eventually everyone gets to write something that doesn't already have a copyright all over it.

-Ariel Lenore

Chapter Four:

As you may know "there is no place like home." If you are put out of your home or you are taken away from it, you know in your heart it's the only place you want to be. If you have yet to establish a place of living in which you feel comfortable, such a statement will soon be understood. On this point, you, the reader, know very well Yorda has lost her home. You also know that Ico has decided to go back to his, as is stated in the previous chapter, and is looking forward to it.

Although I must admit that I, the writer, myself have a small home with my beloved and my children and we are poor; my children long for a field to play in and grass to gnaw on and flowers to romp in – so we look forward to a future in a place we can all be quite content in.

There is one more thing I wanted to say before I continued with the story. I mentioned Ico and how he is looking forward to a home, while Yorda has no home of which to speak of. I wanted to mention that another truth about home, which is also related to this story, is that: If one does not have a home, then one will set out to make one.

:-:

Ashes floated away on the breeze as Ico stirred the embers with a stick. He sighed and looked at Yorda, who was pulling twigs out of her hair. He would never have guessed Yorda was a shifter. Of course, she may not have been provoked to move so often if Ico had not always tossed and turned.

"Let's go." He said. Ico wasn't in a bad mood, but he was still exhausted from the day before. Yorda saw him walking away, and, hence idly followed him. There wasn't anything particularly interesting to look at along the way, except that Ico pointed out bugs and plants.

They soon made it back to Icos' village; a fairly large farming community. All around the houses, there was no fence around the village, but was a great field of tall wheat. At the entrance to the square, by the elder's house, a great old tree marked any deaths upon it. A closer inspection concluded that his name was on the tree! The only way in or out was through this path to the sea and one path on the other side toward the rest of the world. Ico knew that they had to be sneaky. No one could see Ico or Yorda, engulfed in wheat. They could come right up to the tree and the back of the elder's house, but to get to his house he had to go through the square.

Some boys were tossing a ball while some girls called them names for not letting them play. The adults were all indoors, probably, waving fans in front of their faces and drinking or cooking. It was a hot morning, and the air smelled like breakfast. One of the doors opened up and a mother called out to the kids to go home and eat. Some of them cheered and some of them groaned, but only one of them left. Ico knew they wouldn't have a free path. He tugged on Yordas' hand and they carefully snuck around the back each house. They were spotted by a dog, who barked at them twice, but then recognized Ico and sat and wagged his tail.

Ico saw his father. He yanked on Yordas' arm as he ran up to him. "Father!"

Icos' father looked up from getting water, and dropped his pale, which splashed on the dry dirt. Astonished, the great man ran to his son, smiling, alive and scruffy. "Ico!"

He knelt on the ground. He was an enormous man; strong and powerful from a lifetime of hard labor. Even on his knees, he towered over Ico. "My son, what has happened? You are supposed to be dead!"

"Well Father, I didn't want to die, so I escaped the castle and fought some monsters and killed the Evil Queen and rescued the Princess!"

"What, wait, who's she?" His Father looked cautiously at Yorda, who smiled weekly at this gruff voiced, usually distanced authority.

"This is Yorda, she's the Princess I saved from the castle!"

"Wait, wait, lets go sit down and you can tell me the whole story."

:-:

Icos' mother had taken the news with great shock and tearful approval. She had made all his favorite dishes, and after they had eaten, he told the story to his family, with all the gusto he could muster. He thought his story sounded quite remarkable and heroic, which is of course what he wanted people to think of him. The only evidence of his eventful stories was Yorda, who was obviously not from around any earthly village.

Icos' mother gave Yorda a more traditional dress; it was old; deep red and hemmed with violet. It fit her loosely and its' dark color made her skin glow like moonlight. Ico also wore a tunic of deep red, symbolizing his heroism.

All during dinner, and the story telling, Icos' mother and father kept exchanging worried glances at each other, and unkind glimpses and Yorda. They quickly looked away whenever she caught their gaze.

Eventually, Icos' father announced that it was very late and they had a long day ahead of them. Ico tugged on Yordas' hand and they headed for his bedroom. He stopped in front of his door and closed it just enough so that his parents could have heard the squeak of the hinges. He waited for a moment and then peeked around the hallway corner. He saw his parents look at each other. His father put his hand around his mothers' shoulders and they quietly slipped outside.

Of course nothing had changed. He was only gone two and a half days. But still, he was nostalgic to see that there, in the corner of his small plain bedroom was his hay bedding and his old wool blanket in the corner. The couple of melted candles on the floor, and a large, simply made box with a flat, make shift lid, of his few personal belongings. He dug around in it and fished out his sleeping shirt and handed it to Yorda. He knew his mother wouldn't like her old dress being slept in. Ico turned his back to her as she changed, and he quickly changed back into an even older shirt.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Come in!" Ico said, as he opened the door. His mother and his father were standing there, looking strange, as if they were secretly ill.

"Ico..." his mother said kindly. "As a gesture of our appreciation, your father and I would like to give you and… your friend… a special thank you treat. You can think of it as your birthday present." She went into the kitchen. Ico was silently curious.

"Your mother went through some hard work to get this for you Ico, please be grateful." His father said.

"I'm always grateful, father."

"I know, my son."

Icos' mother came back with two tall steaming mugs. "Each of you take one."

"Thank you, mother." Ico took them and handed one to Yorda.

Icos' parents smiled and looked at Ico guiltily and said goodnight and shut the door. Ico raised an eyebrow but dismissed it. They were probably just tired.

He looked into his mug and smelled it. He took a ginger sip. "Mmmm!" He smiled. Slightly sweet and very bitter, with a hint of chilies, it was the unmistakable taste of chocolate. He sipped it slowly, enjoying every drop. He sat down in his bed and motioned for Yorda to follow. She took a sip and smiled gratefully. Ico listened to Yorda hum delightfully as she slowly drank her cup. Near the end of their drink, they both felt unbelievably sleepy. Ico yawned and lay down in his bed as Yorda watched. He fell right to sleep. She yawned herself and lay down next to him.

There was only blackness after that.

:-:

The next morning, Ico woke up with the sun shining bright in his room. As he looked drearily about his room, he realized he had woken up alone.