A/N. Everyone who loves Soren loves dragons... except me. Kurth is cute but I hate the rest. And this chapter being total crap proves it. Has enough time passed for Ena's kid to be this old? Probably not, Naesala's kids are supposed to be toddlers. Too bad.

~~ Chapter Seven: Entanglements ~~

Ena had an ominous feeling before she even entered the hall. The back of her neck was prickling in a way she hadn't felt in years, since before the birth of her son. It was entirely unpleasant.

So she was surprised when their mysterious visitor turned out to be the diminutive tactician employed by the Greil Mercenaries. Kurthnaga was already speaking with the boy, who seemed not to have aged a day since Ena had last seen him. Then again, she had not paid much attention to beorc matters during the war against the goddess.

What could possibly be the reason for such a visit, especially with the boy's general so conspicuously absent? He was accompanied only by two very discomfited hawks, both of whom Ena remembered from the Crimean Liberation Army.

Kurthnaga said something, ostensibly a polite query as to where the former Crimean general was: Ena suddenly knew why Soren was here as soon as her good-brother spoke.

The softly curved brows, so easily spiked into furrowed anger; the light, carefully polite voices; the crimson eyes, one pair always veiled, those of the other gentle and soft; the smooth, easily parted hair, framing a sharp-featured face. Oh, there were certain differences... but Ena actually felt herself freeze at the two of them facing one another, as if a matched pair, and she wondered if anyone else had noticed.

No. Conversation had continued; Gareth was paying more attention to the guard posted at the gate, and her own grandfather had not yet appeared. The hawks seemed to be doing their best to disappear into the wall. Ena, staring at Kurthnaga, thought suddenly of her lost fiancé and the dowager queen of Daein. She had to keep from staggering back a step.

This was Almedha's lost son: not Pelleas, but Soren.

"Mama!" came the sudden cry, as if summoned by her own heart. Ena turned to see her son running gleefully into the room: Nasir stood in the doorway, almost unobservable.

As he came to her, she seized up the boy, named for his father, encircling him with her arms and pressing her lips to his forehead, to the small mark there. "Mama, you're smushing me," he said indignantly, squirming free.

"I'm sorry, my love," she said absently, boosting him up. Rajaion threw his arms around her neck and began calling out to his uncle. Ena barely noticed: her head was spinning.

"You said that your commander… simply left?" Kurthnaga was asking, face lowering into confusion: and, if Ena wasn't mistaken, anger.

"Yes," said the beorc boy; she sensed grief beneath his deliberately cool tone. "He said nothing, only mentioning that he could no longer remain in Crimea."

Ena forced herself to move, to approach the dais, to set her son down and kiss him one last time, as Kurthnaga's face darkened. How much more similar those expressions became! "I suppose it makes sense. The lords of Crimea were not exactly… gracious in their acceptance the first time Ike saved them. Further reliance on a poor mercenary captain would not improve their disposition."

It did not escape Ena's glance that the young tactician winced visibly when Ike's name was spoken aloud, clasping one hand over the other wrist. She wondered when her good-brother would get around to asking why the boy was here.

Then she realized. The serenity had returned to Kurthnaga's face, and he glanced over at her; his lips compressed ever so slightly.

He already knew.

Did the boy know too? Was that why he was here?

Ena's grandfather finally spoke, entering the room; in another moment she would have blurted out the questions. "Hmm. Soren," said Nasir, approaching Ena. She felt his hand circle her shoulders; it helped to alleviate her uneasiness, as did his calm voice. "What reason have we for such an unexpected pleasure?"

The expression on Soren's face didn't subtly change: it went straight from careful displeasure to a black glare. Some current of understanding, resented by both parties, was running between Ena's grandfather and the small figure standing so defiantly before them. Kurthnaga obviously sensed it as well, his eyes flickering warily from one to another: Ena wondered how long her grandfather had known.

"Yes, Nasir," said Soren, his light voice very, very flat. "You have certainly guessed why I am here. I have already visited the bird tribes, as well as Gallia: I was told that I may be part dragon...and given certain hints about why."

His eyes flicked unabashedly between all the dragons, the marks appearing on their foreheads. "I see," he added, just as his gaze turned to Ena and her son, "that Ranulf was probably on the right track."

She felt a sudden urge to grab Rajaion up again, or even to throw herself over him. Her son had already sensed the tension in the room; under even such light scrutiny, he stuck a thumb in his mouth and buried his face in Ena's dress. She reached down, caressed his hair.

They were all silent, for a long moment. Ena looked up once more: Kurthnaga's face was back to a careful blankness. How did he find out? she wondered. Pelleas wasn't one of the Branded: perhaps he had told Almedha? Nasir had known all along, had told Ena that Ike's tactician was half-laguz, although at the time her grandfather had now known which race. Perhaps Kurthnaga had merely put two and two together, just as Ena had done a few moments ago.

Ena risked one more glance at the slight, raven-haired figure before them; the crimson eyes were fixed on Kurthnaga, unwavering. What would the young king of dragons say?

As they all waited, breathless—Ena fancied that even her grandfather was uneasy—Kurthnaga slowly stepped down from the dais, approaching their taciturn visitor.

"Do you remember the young man Izuka set up as the king of Daein?" he finally said, quietly.

Their visitor gave a tiny sniff, almost disdainfully. "Yes, Statesman Pelleas. He abdicated the throne to Queen Micaiah, did he not?" There was a pause, and Soren's intense gaze didn't waver. "Ike told me that Pelleas' mother... that the Lady Almedha was how Ashnard tricked your brother into coming to Daein. That she and her son were dear to him."

Ena felt her breath catch, as if the boy had socked her in the stomach. His gaze flicked to her face: to Ena's astonishment, his eyes turned down respectfully, his expression regretful. So he remembered that Rajaion had been Ena's fiancé.

Furiously she wondered how Soren could not know. Were half-beorc always so oblivious to things concerning their own lives? Or was he willfully blinding himself to the truth? The boy had spoken of Almedha's son, yet seemed to be blithely ignorant of the facts that Almedha was Rajaion's sister, and that he, Soren, was that son.

Only a moment passed. Kurthnaga hesitated, then spoke. "Yes. All of that is true. The Lady Almedha lives with Pelleas now, in Nevassa. I think that if you go there... he might have the answers you seek."

Oh, so that was how Kurthnaga was going to play it. Ena almost felt disappointed. She, as with most of the other laguz, had not liked this little tactician, and liked him even less now that she knew his awful heritage. Just now, shocked back into her grief for Rajaion, she would have enjoyed seeing this boy's reaction to the shocking news that he was Ashnard's son.

But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. The dragons had enough problems of their own, and it was better, if less philanthropical, to dump this particular problem into Almedha's lap. Ena still pitied the woman, but it had been Almedha's mistake to even consort with Ashnard. And perhaps the boy would take the news better by simply meeting his mother.

Soren obviously didn't miss the vague nature of Kurthnaga's reply: but Ena had to give the boy credit for knowing his place and demanding nothing more. He bowed, his great black—no, Ena corrected herself, dark green—cloak of hair obscuring his face momentarily. Then he said expressionlessly, "I will go to Nevassa. Thank you, my lord, for your help."

Ena couldn't bear to watch any longer. As the usual pleasantries were exchanged, Kurthnaga offering the boy sanctuary until he next set out, she reached down and took her son's hand. Rajaion seemed unusually happy to be placidly led from the room, his thumb still in his mouth and his eyes still wide.

As she stepped past her grandfather, his gaze arrested her. "Ena," he said softly, "you don't think...?"

She was startled to read hesitance, even guilt in his eyes: he had wanted as much as she to see Kurthnaga spill the truth. Still... "No," she said, firmly. "No, I think it's best for the boy to find out himself."

Nasir looked over, mouth compressed. "A journey to Daein, in midwinter," he said finally, tonelessly. "He'll probably leave before we can even arrange an escort."

Ena didn't know what to say, but in any case had no intention of suggesting anything beneficial to Soren. For all she cared, he could freeze to death in the Daein snow, and rid Tellius of a potential power struggle. Goddess... could she even imagine the chaos in Daein if he wanted to claim his birthright, if Almedha set him up the way she'd done with Pelleas?

Ena shivered. It seemed unlikely, but she was glad to scoop up her son, and cuddle him against her as she left those cold thoughts behind.