Summary: Part three of three, Ike, Soren; he will live and die the only way he knows how.
Warnings: Slight IkexSoren. Spoilers for Ike and Soren's endings if they have an A-support.
Notes: Oh my gosh, I cannot believe that this is the end of this project. I have really enjoyed working on it, but I can't say that I'm upset to see it end, considering some of the trouble these prompts have given me. Nonetheless, please enjoy this. Perhaps if I have time and ideas I will expand on the universe that this and the previous two installments have taken place in.
Call a War Religion
Ike grinned as his sword cleaved the final bandit's head. He started cleaning the blade off as he turned, looking around for his companion. As usual these days, Soren found him first.
"Ike," the dark mage began, but he didn't get any further as Ike hugged him. "I-Ike!" the red-eyed Branded protested. "What if someone sees?"
"Who's going to see, Soren—the dead?" the eighty-four-year-old man asked, in a tone that suggested he was humoring the smaller man by answering. "No one comes up here because of the bandits, which would be why we're up here. They're not going to come looking for us, they'll assume the bandits got us. So I'm allowed to cuddle for a bit if I want to," the swordsman finished, hugging Soren a tad bit tighter.
Finally, reluctantly on both parts, Ike let Soren go and the two of them began rounding up bandit heads as proof of the kill. "That's all of them," Soren stated, and the two began trekking back to the village that had hired them.
The villagers were definitely surprised to see the two of them return, no worse for the wear, when one was a scrawny mage who looked to be in his early twenties at best and the other was an old man with grey hair and a craggy face.
"My, oh my," the village Elder, who was probably the same age as Ike, exclaimed. The fact that he looked and acted quite a bit like one of the village elders who (had) lived near Greil's Retreat made Ike laugh inside. "You two have certainly lived up to what you claimed! Here is your payment, and please, feel free to stay at the inn for as long as you wish to!"
Ike laughed. "Thanks for your offer, but we'll actually be on our way; we were heading for the Arago Mountains when we heard about your bandit problem, so we'll just go and continue on that way."
"Th-the Arago Mountains?" the Elder squeaked. "B-but that's where some of the strongest bandits are said to live!"
"Exactly," Soren replied, monotone.
"I-I realize that you two are quite good, but…but why would you want to go looking for such strong bandits? Do…do you honestly enjoy fighting that much?"
Ike shrugged, rolling one of his shoulders back until it popped. "I don't really know anything but fighting, and I kind of like it. It's a way to test my strength. And doing it against bandits doesn't do anybody much harm save the bandits."
"A-and you, young sir?" the village elder asked Soren. "Do you feel this way as well?"
"It doesn't matter," Soren replied. "I follow Ike, no matter what."
The traveling companions proceeded to walk out of the village, leaving one gaping Elder behind. When they rounded a bend that took them out of sight, Ike reached over and squeezed Soren's near hand, a silent thank you for all that Soren put up with just to stay with Ike. Soren squeezed back, but didn't get why Ike was so surprised.
Trust and love were two of the strongest binding forces there ever were.