Genre: Adventure/friendship
Words: 9,790+
Rating:T for teen
Main Characters:Ike and Nailah
Lame Summary: Post RD. Several months after Ashera's defeat, Ike, Soren, and Ranulf leave for Hatari. Nailah decides she wants to reunite her lost nation with the rest of Tellius, but fate has a different idea in mind.
(A/N): AGH! It's May already… Sorry sorry sorry for the late update… School is beating me up. Specifically my online French class is kidnapping my computer time. But don't worry—the class ends this week, so I should be fairly free after that...
Oh, and a review reply to Rosepetal (or BlueSkyWing, was it? Probably should have just replied via pm… XD): Thanks for the review! I'm really glad to hear you like this! I like Micaiah too. I plan for her to be playing a major part in this story, though I'm subject to my muses, so that may change... When I decide to actually get a move on with the plot, and stop writing crappy fillers, she'll pop up right quick… next chapter, to be exact. :) You'll being seeing more of her farther on as well, though some other FE characters will be playing some major parts, too. Thanks again for the review! :)
And while I'm at it—thanks to my other readers and reviewers. I appreciate your support! :) Hope you like this chapter. Personally, I want to bash my head it after reading it… But, I'll let you guys develop your own opinion. Er - Yeah, I'll shut up now... O.O
0o0o0o0
Travels of the East –barefootbean
Chapter III: Far Sightings
Daein border/Serenes Forest border- er, countryside?
The year 649, early autumn
0o0o0o0
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Ike carefully stretched his arm out, wincing slightly when his shoulder muscle's tensed, wracking it with a small jolt of pain. Gently, as to not disturb the tender flesh, he gave a tug on the bandage that bound it, letting it unravel itself into a small pile of cloth at his feet. He scowled at the sight of it.
Infection was having its way with it.
"Wow, that's a shiner. Soren's gonna have a stroke if he sees that," A low whistle echoed in Ike's ear. He looked up in surprise, not expecting company other than the bugs and mosquitoes so early in the morning. The sun hadn't even risen yet, and the only light that Ike bothered to use to see was that of the dying and crackling fire nearby. The laguz had sharp eyes, though he should have known that by then.
"Ranulf," he greeted simply, rolling down his tunic's sleeve quickly to hide the evidence. It was a foolhardy attempt, Ike was aware, though he couldn't bring himself to care. Ranulf wasn't one to pester him anyway.
"Soren's herbs not working?" Ranulf nodded at Ike's shoulder, taking a seat beside his companion and assuming the slouch position, his tail curled up in a fluffy blue bundle on his lap. Ike exhaled a breath he didn't know he had been holding, and idly picked up his worn bandage from the ground, tossing the worthless rag in the fire before him and watching as it caught, his mind wandering.
"…Not as much as they should be." He replied, blinking warily from his late watch. Out of generosity, he had taken the latter, despite his own exhaustion. Soren had objected immediately as soon as he had spoken, telling him to save the chivalry for people who actually needed it. In the end, it was through pure luck that Ike managed to stronghold him into letting him be. Ranulf wasn't much help, between the name calling and stare-downs he warred with Soren, Ike was lucky he received any care at all in the end.
They're going to have to resolve their problems eventually. This is what I wanted to avoid between them—and now I'm caught in the middle! …I don't see why they can't simply get along after everything we've all been through…
Ike dryly threw a glance to his far right, checking to see if the archsage's body still breathed within the shadows that covered him; he always found himself checking with Soren, considering how fragile he always looked with his young appearance. Though he knew in truth that Soren was indeed far opposite that, much tougher, older and wiser than he looked, it was simply a habit.
Ike doubted it would ever change, though he never gave it much thought.
Soren's dark hair was illuminated softly by the fire –the strangest shade of moss green he had ever bared witness to in the light– and Ike could see the slow rise and fall of his stiffly folded body within the confines of his robes, the only indication that he was even alive; if it weren't for that last detail, he could have been a corpse with his paleness; an icy, lifeless, corpse.
A corpse… I've seen too many of those.
…Damn, I've got to stop this reminiscing… pull yourself together, Ike!
"Were those bandits using Venin axes?" Ranulf's question snapped Ike back to reality, and he frowned, stiffly shifting the position he was sure he had been sitting in for the last couple hours. His toes felt numb and dull in his boots; the early signs of frostbite, perhaps?
"Venin axes," Ike confirmed simply.
"Yikes. I was wondering why it hadn't been healing properly. We don't have any antitoxins, do we?"
"If we did, I would have used them by now."
"Great… poison, just what you needed. Wonderful," he finished dryly. Ranulf sighed and slunk down the log he sat upon, crossing his legs together and leaning back against it. The dead grass poked at his bare feet –Calill believed he needed to 'man up' and get over the loss of his boots; she told Ike about the ungodly hour he'd woken her–, but he hardly seemed swayed, his heterochromatic eyes wearily watching the darkness around them for something Ike couldn't see.
That was an awfully enthusiastic reply.
Ike frowned and raised an inquiring eyebrow at his companion, asking his question silently. No reply came, however; he kept himself occupied instead, pulling a small steel knife he kept strapped to his thigh from its sheath, and used it on one of his spare shirts, shredding it into smaller sections of cloth to wind around his wound. While actual gauze would have been much better for the amount of blood that tended to ooze from it, Ike was good at improvising. Especially for himself.
Besides, his wound could have been worse. He was lucky that Ranulf had arrived in the nick of time when he had. He probably saved him his arm—or, technically, more like the remains of it.
It was revolting to look at—even to Ike.
Glaring at an especially tough piece of cloth, Ike used his teeth to get a grip on it, and gave it a solid yank, resulting with a tear—and the remains of a worthless scrap. He scowled and pulled his knife back from its concealment with a sigh, and began the grievous process of sawing at it once more. He felt eyes on him and glanced under his arm, noticing Ranulf's laughing gaze.
"What?" Ike asked, unfazed from the attention.
"Nothing. Nothing at all, Ike." Ranulf smirked.
Ike rolled his eyes, before sobering his features slowly. "…If you've got something on your mind, just come out and say it, would you please?" Ike shook his head, resuming his work beside the fading fire. Ranulf stayed quiet.
His shoulder began to throb after a while, but he pressed on anyways, determined to finish his simple project. Reckless he was, Soren would say. Or too damn stubborn. Or, on the occasional occasion when Soren broadened his vocabulary, bullheaded even came to mind.
Soren's one to talk about stubbornness…
"Actually, it is something else." Ike cautiously finished wrapping the final strand of cloth over his shoulder, and tucked the few unneeded ones away in the bag at his feet, brushing away the small clumps of dirt from them idly before glancing in Ranulf's direction.
Knew it.
"Figured. So, let's hear it." Ranulf gave Ike a bemused look, though his thrashing tail betrayed his true emotions. He tucked his arms behind his head, rearranging his body into a more comfortable position.
"…Did you give Soren that letter like I asked you? You know… the one from Skrimir?"
Ike frowned confusedly, wondering why this would be an issue. "Yeah. I remembered. What about it?"
"No reason." Ranulf shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, than a few seconds later, gave Ike a placid look, staring intently at him, his tail twitching back and forth like a snake. Ike raised an eyebrow once more.
"What? Is that supposed to be a queue for something?"
"…I'm waiting for you to tell me what it said." Ranulf explained patiently, as a mother would to a slow child.
Oh. That. Why didn't you just say something in the first place then? I'm not a mind-reader like the herons…
Ike shrugged, and then winced when his shoulder screamed at him. "Nothing really important," he breathed, "I didn't read it, since it was addressed to Soren, and he burned it to a crisp. You'll have to ask him. Skrimir was offering Soren a job or something, but we haven't talked much about it, so I don't really remember." Ike paused, thinking. "He seemed unhappy about it, though."
"Oh– you don't remember. That's cute. Please Ike, don't spare my feelings here. What did the letter say?" Ranulf rolled from his position onto his stomach, holding his chin and balancing carefully with the palms of his hands.
Cute? What? Weren't I just the one telling you to come out with it?
Ike gave him a funny look. "You think I'm lying." It wasn't a question. Ike was stating the facts. Ranulf frowned.
I just told you the truth. It's not that difficult to believe, is it?
"You only told me half of it. I can tell. Now spit it out!" Ranulf glared irately at him, making Ike's typical scowl arrange itself on his face. He held his hands up in defense, not that it did much to block Ranulf's rage. Since when was Ranulf ever cranky about anything, anyway?
Why doesn't he just ask Soren? I don't get it.
"All right, but you're not going to like it." Ranulf rolled his eyes, and waved him on to continue. Ike took a breath, having one of his notable gut feelings about Ranulf's reaction, the only reason why he hesitated to speak. "Skrimir was asking Soren to go and work for him in Gallia, at the Royal Palace as his commander and strategist…as a replacement for you, since you were resigning to accompany me. It's from what I understand, anyway."
Ranulf's jaw dropped.
"W-w-what?"
I knew he wouldn't like the truth. He asked and I delivered.
Ike exhaled and scratched the back of his neck tiredly, leaning forward, his arms balanced precariously on his legs in the meanwhile. "If it makes you feel any better, Soren declined. He wasn't interested at taking over your role at all. …He's not like that, you know… Selfish."
Soren's a big softie deep down… NOT, that he'd ever catch me telling anyone that…
Ranulf's initial shock began to wear off, and he closed his mouth before any mosquitoes decided to fly in, his tail still and ears flattened slightly. "I-I see… I shouldn't have gotten so worked up anyway. It's just… I've just been a bit tense lately, you know?" He sighed and tossed a nearby stick lazily. "With leaving and all…this is different from what I'm used to. I apologize for making a fuss. I sound like a six-year old," he snorted. Ike nodded in acknowledgement.
I understand completely…
Sighing, Ike stood and stretched from where he stood, before maneuvering his way closer to the dying fire and throwing several nearby twigs and pine needles onto hit, trying to revive it. The fire merely hissed at him angrily, spitting out sparks of rage at him for letting it go unattended for so long. Ike stood staring at it silently for a few moments, holding his hands out over the fire for warmth—not that he really needed it. It was reflex. He had long ago adapted to the cold when he'd carried his father's corpse through the pouring rain, his blood like ice veins frozen over his father's breath nothing more than that of a tickle in his ear, distant…
"…You don't have to apologize, Ranulf. I get it…"
Ranulf abruptly gave him a keen, wicked grin, much to Ike's newfound bafflement and suspicion. "Really?" He practically purred the words, hands tucked under his chin charmingly. "Who's the lucky girl? It's about time you found someone! You're going to introduce me someday, right?"
Ike felt himself die a little inside.
Wait—What?
He stiffly turned his head, a single eye beginning to twitch, and gave Ranulf a funny look, his expression one of utter confusion. "What the heck are you talking about?"
Ranulf frowned in mild puzzlement, giving Ike his own oblivious expression. "Lethe, of course. What are you talking about?"
.
0o0o0o0
.
Silently, Nailah stalked through the undergrowth of the forest, her wolf feet padding lightly along the forest floor through the pointed and frosted leaves before her. It was the early morning, the sun just beginning to peak along over the surrounding mountains of Serenes, striking gold shine wherever it shone along the treetops and frigid mist not far above. The air was rich with the frozen scent of cedar and crippled brush; a bit too sweet smelling for her sensitive nose—but she wouldn't complain aloud. Nailah opened her jaw wide, taking a large breath, trying to relish it for a single moment, telling herself she'd grow to like it eventually –it'd be a while, if ever– and then began the much illegal –Reyson only wished it were– and pitiful hunt for something worthwhile to call breakfast.
Breakfast.
Her stomach tightened with hunger, and she breathed a sigh of hot air out her nose, leaping over one of many fallen trees before her in a strong, smooth movement, and landing gracefully on the other side, slightly stirring the twigs and debris around her. She continued her steady walk, her only seeing eye roaming uninterestedly over the surrounding area of trees, bushes, and frozen nettles that lined her path. Everywhere she looked, she saw green, caked with an icy bout of sharp shards of frost, so vivid and brutal to look at it almost hurt her eyes to stare for too long. She silently imagined it were sand instead that she saw; the dunes to the east of the Desert of Death, their reds and oranges and shades of gray in the dark, shadows and grit and fallen, past ancient cities of Hatari in pieces, something so different and much more familiar and soft than the forest that the bird laguz tribes' called home.
It wasn't that she didn't like it, she constantly told herself, it was that she had other places to be, and that bright cankered green was only a grating reminder of where she should have been at the moment, and who she needed to be speaking her goodbyes to currently.
Ha! And I was only so eager to leave my nation when I had the chance… I have Rafiel to thank for that…
She froze as something sprinted from the corner of her eyesight, a small blur of brown and white fur through the frost. Her gaze immediately narrowed and snapped towards the small creature, and it froze mid-stride, as if being held by some invisible force of nature. Nailah snarled at it menacingly, and strode closer to its fuzzy body, her belly low to the ground, glaring at the rabbit that lay at her feet, so pathetic looking; she scowled at it with her eyes.
Too scrawny…
With a sigh that came out sounding more like a strangled howl, Nailah turned her back and allowed the small morsel of food to escape, knowing she'd regret it as soon as it was out of her range. She did a few moments later, but didn't bother to give chase.
There was larger game that she had more interest in, anyway. Unfortunately, it was hardly the kind she could eat—not that she wanted to. He was hardly appetizing. Actually, he was far from it; too feathery.
I doubt Rafiel will react well to the news of my departure… ah well. His brother's a bad influence on his behavior. Ike wasn't much help, either.
The lost heron prince of the Serenes Royal Family, survivor of the Serenes Massacre of the year 625, and a dear friend, Rafiel was the sole reason she'd learned of survivors of the Great Flood 800 years ago, and why she'd made the journey across the Desert of Death to see the truth of his words in the first place. If Volug hadn't found him in the desert the day that he happened to be on border patrol duty, her country would still be a Gallian myth, the existence of the wolf tribe a mere story tale, Hatari merely a dead country, and the Goddess's decrees an unknown oath.
Nailah owed him much to say the least, and she intended to make it up to him. Whether he would be accepting or not was another issue all together, though she'd settle any debate easily enough. Rafiel was too polite to argue with her, too soft and gentle, he'd only disagree silently instead with a simple incline of his head and a dip of his paralyzed wings, disconsolate. It wasn't that Rafiel had no backbone to argue; it was simply how he was—how the herons were as a tribe. They were supposed to be lovely and courteous and beautiful and far out of reach of anyone, though Nailah had second thoughts after witnessing the outward ness of his two younger siblings, whom she believed to be unrelated to him when she first witnessed their thriving personalities for herself.
They're hardly herons; more like geese.
Nailah stepped out of the last remaining patches of forest, and out into the open clearing, her head tilted at an angle to keep the sun's bright reflections out of her eye –she couldn't be concerned about the other one, covered with a glossy red silk and strapped with a gold pin from a fine merchant back in Hatari– and her body from being seen by any passer-by laguz. It was unlikely that she'd run across any stranger, but she didn't want to risk it. She wanted to be certain that she would not be seen, especially by him until she chose to reveal herself. Her chances were slim.
Watching from afar for awhile would make it easier, she hoped, for what needed to be done. Nailah was determined to see her plan through, whether he agreed to her decision or not. If she had the option though, to stay with him and bid her time, Nailah may have taken it… but sitting idly by twiddling her thumbs all day was something she could not do.
Really, it wasn't her choice to leave Serenes. It was her duty that required her attention; her duty to her desert nation, to the people of Hatari who she had to return to, after leaving them wondering –more than likely– for months and months on end, without a word or letter or her vassal sent to inform her people of her pursuits for the truth—for all of Tellius, and the blood that had been shed in the process of it... surely her country was wondering when their queen would return, or whether she was even alive to make the journey back.
"My dear… I wouldn't let you fall in battle. Nor would your people, I'm sure…"
The first thing that caught her eye were the trees; burned and scorched and gnarled with such twisted branches in a fashion that made her think of corruption –Goddess Ashera, perhaps– though she knew that wasn't the case there. It was simply a small patch of land from the lingering affects of the Serenes Massacre; one of many more areas that were still recovering, even with the heron galdrar at work upon day after day after day of mending…
Ah, reading my heart, are we? I'd rather you didn't.
Nailah strode through the trees casually, the frost off the surrounding brush clinging to her silver laguz fur as she walked, making her glow faintly whenever she stepped into a patch of sunlight. A step here, a short leap there and soon he was in her sights: a crumpled figure at the base of a burnt birch tree, sprawled out on the blessed, frosted ground in the most disorderly fashion she'd seen him in a while. Her first feeling was disclosure, than irritation for being caught sooner than she had wished. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, out of his reach to sense.
"My apologies… I've had difficulties controlling my galdrar recently. I was hoping the air would help clear my mind, though I haven't had any such luck yet…"
His voice in her head was calm and engaging, a gentle melody she'd heard for the last twenty-something years that still made her think of the first day Volug had brought him to her, half dead and suffering from far too many sunburns on his pale heron skin, his voice still just the same as it was now…
Did you find what you were looking for? Nailah asked mentally, knowing he was still listening in on her mind.
A gentle laugh resounded. "Nothing quite yet. Reyson hasn't had any luck either, and he's done more research than I have."
Nailah gave a wolfish snort and shifted mid-stride into her beorc form, her graceful movements never ceasing. She spoke aloud, "Have you talked to Sephiran about it? I'm sure that old coot would know somethingat the very least. Or your father may, if he doesn't."
She gazed down at him for a response, waiting a bit impatiently. He always took his time with his answers, always thorough in saying exactly what he wanted to; his only irritating quality, she believed, if he could ever have one. It wasn't much, though; his good qualities far outweighed the bad, and misinterpretations were a rare event with him. On top of that, he was a true heron. Herons were known for their grace and innocence in all matters civil and just, and he lived it up to it.
"Irritating quality? I'm sorry, my dear…" Rafiel's eyes finally opened, forest green eyes looking up at her underneath a flow of flaxen hair. He craned his neck up from the frosted ground beneath him to meet her gaze. "I didn't realiz–"
"If I had a problem, I'd do something about it. You're fine." Nailah's wolf tail swished back and forth systematically, a habit she had when speaking. "Did you ask Sephiran? I don't like the man, though he ought to know something." Her voice held the barest hints of disdain.
"…It's Lehran; No," the musical response finally came.
"Well, there's you solution." Nailah ignored his correction and placed her leathered hand on the tree for balance, allowing herself to drop to the chilly ground beside him with a flop, careful not to make contact with Rafiel's fidgety wings in the meanwhile. No reaction came, and she carefully sprawled out into a more comfortable position, her wolf tail sticking out from beneath her and just brushing the robes of his arm softly.
"I'm not sure speaking to him would be a good idea, love. He's still a bit… fragile." Nailah could easily tell that she'd breached a subject he was uncomfortable with when he tensed, and had to bite her tongue to keep from saying something that could provoke him to the man's defense.
The man's not fragile; he's absolutely mental, you mean.
"He didn't seem so fragile when he tried to kill us all in the Tower of Guidance, now did he?" Nailah turned her head towards her companion, watching his face to see if she'd overstepped her opinion. She'd admit it, she did have a slight grudge, but those reasons were well-founded, and entirely believable.
She couldn't make sense of why Micaiah had decided to heal him in the end, and why after all he had done to the nations, Ike had even tried to convince him to make amends for the wars and deaths he'd caused. Nailah had been shocked as she'd watched the scene unfold before her, shocked that such a wondrous second chance at life was given to him so nonchalantly. If it'd been her, she'd have executed him on the spot if she was given the option; second chances weren't something he'd earned, though Rafiel and everyone else thought otherwise.
Nailah was sure that was the only reason he still lived.
"…He's different now; he hates himself for what he's done. He was insane back then," Rafiel defended.
And he's not now? He's a cause of concern for all the nations. Forgiveness does not come easily.
Nailah felt the corners of her mouth tug downwards, and she shifted her position slightly, her face turned away so he could not see. She didn't want to argue, though the temptation to do so was almost overwhelming. Nailah took a deep breath to keep her discordant thoughts contained, less he be listening in with his galdrar still.
"'Back then' wasn't so long ago. I won't be forgetting what he did anytime soon, and neither should you."
There were many people that wanted to see him dead in Begnion, after Empress Sanaki had revealed the truth to the general public as soon as the continental war had ended, and Nailah wasn't ashamed to say that she was in agreement. Of course, the blame hadn't been placed on Sephiran alone—no, it was the Senate's actions and civilians prejudice that had ignited the flames of war to escalate to the level of which it had reached, and that was one thing that Nailah was pleased to hear the Apostle speak of when she had; the girl certainly wasn't holding anything back. It seemed the other nations' citizens of Tellius still had yet to hear the truth from their leader's lips about the wars events, and their demands for it had been rising rapidly.
After Nailah had left Gallia's royal palace with Rafiel in tow to return to Serenes, she'd visited Queen Elincia after careful planning, and had wanted to speak with Her Majesty about Hatari's current situation. As soon as she'd mentioned the word 'migration' to the beorc woman in their private conference, her face had lit up in a knowing smile. While Nailah knew it was not her place to be influencing her, the beorc woman was strong, and she highly doubted her mind could be swayed so easily by something as simple as a couple of well-placed words. If Nailah was to emigrate her people as she had let on to the Crimean Queen, then the truth of the war would need to be revealed in order to do so; the history, the lies, the corruption of the Begnion Senate all those years ago—all of it would need to be exposed, laid bare for the world to see.
After all, Hatari was a new country to everyone else, and she only a novel and minor figurehead of little importance to anyone. Nailah would need assistance if she was to ascertain a place in the new era of peace, and she was sure that Queen Elincia was just the woman who would be able to lend her a hand in doing so. And if for some reason she could not—there was always Queen Micaiah. Nailah had thought her situation through proficiently enough to be prepared for just about anything.
"You don't understand… if you could read his heart like we herons could… to be able to see all the sorrows that have crushed him and the people he loved for so long, gone up in smoke during the Serenes Massacre…" Rafiel's voice was quiet, and Nailah's frown only deepened as he continued. "…You'd see that he's changed. He's good now. He's no longer Sephiran, the mad man who caused this destruction on Tellius with the medallion… He's Lehran now, the pacifist and heron king he used to be." Rafiel turned his head slightly and gave Nailah a pleading look, and her brilliant comeback died in her throat. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with a sigh; Reyson was beginning to corrupt his older brother profusely.
Things can't surely be as simply resolved as that. A name means nothing when it can't be backed up by deeds.
"Fine. Believe what you wish. It's your opinion." She leapt lightly to her feet, her tail scattering leaves and debris around in a swirl. Rafiel tilted his head back to look up at her, a small look of surprise illuminated by the flourish of golden tendrils.
"Nailah?"
"Yes?" she responded brusquely.
"…I'm sorry for pushing the matter. That was not my intention."
Nailah frowned and didn't answer, instead offering a callous covered hand out, pulling him to his feet gently. Silently, she began to remove the few leaves and clumps of dirt that clung to his robes, picking out the stubborn pieces with her nails, and brushing the grime from his dysfunctional wings as gently as possible when they came to her attention.
"Is this an apology?" Rafiel gave a small laugh as Nailah pulled several leaves from his hair. "It's really not necess–"
He paused as Nailah continued on, saying not a word, but her actions speaking a million things at once.
She stepped around to his front, straightening his robes and fixing his collar. Slowly, Rafiel glanced down at her, and Nailah froze, her almond hands resting just above his chest as something began to thrum beneath her finger tips. She felt her ears twitch in accordance.
His heart was racing.
Nailah glanced upward, her eyes meeting his own green ones evenly.
Come, Rafiel. We both knew this would come up eventually. Nailah allowed a playful smirk to dance across her face, though it did not meet the severity her gaze implied.
Her situation was hardly a laughing matter.
Rafiel's eyes widened for a mere moment in astonishment, before his expression slowly turned impassive, hiding anymore revealing emotions that Nailah could identify; another trait of the herons. She watched his face from the corner of her eye as she continued removing the lint from his robes, habitual for her.
"You're returning to Hatari." His voice was steady and did not shake; she had to give him credit for that, considering the abruptness of her situation.
"Yes," Nailah confirmed.
"I'm coming with you."
Nailah hesitated in her activity momentarily, caught off guard by his unexpected boldness, before resuming her routine with a heated vigor. This time she glanced up, staring him in the eyes with a blaze of unshakable resolve. "Don't even think about it," she warned with a glint in her eye. Rafiel's hands shook slightly from stress, and he gave her a pleading look.
"Nailah, please–"
"No. I won't say it again, Rafiel." She felt the muscles in her hands begin to tighten, and cursing under her breath, she positioned them at her sides stiffly before she accidentally yanked a feather out of his wings; he was catching her off guard with every word that came through his pale lips.
Dammit. I don't want to leave you. My duty as queen requires it, however, and we both know I've neglected that obligation for too long now.
I have to do this. My nation comes first before my own preferences, no matter how much I may wish to object to it.
Rafiel twitched, and Nailah knew he was in her head again, reading her thoughts with his galdrar. Roughness towards him was something Nailah hardly ever opted to do, but he was being bullheaded, and she'd play every trick card in the book if it kept him safe and out of potentially detrimental positions.
"Your family needs your support here in Serenes. Taking you along with me would be unfair to them, and that's not something I want to do." Rafiel's eyes looked sorrowful.
"You're part of that family. Don't speak like your not." Nailah ignored his last line and continued forth.
"Not in the way they are to you. I am not a blood relative." Rafiel frowned.
"That doesn't make you anything less, dear. If anything, I feel more at ease around you; I know what to expect."
"Did you expect me to place my duties first?"
He didn't reply.
Nailah sighed and tried a different tactic, trying to offer up a positive thought, mending the situation a bit. She'd never expected it to be so difficult to speak so brusquely with him. "I'll be back before you know it."
He took the bait immediately. "For how long will you be gone?" She paused before answering.
"…Weeks, months… It depends on the situation. I may have to stay longer if it's bad."
Home. She wondered if Hatari would be the same as it was when she left, still rugged and untamed; a land full of contrasts compared to the rest of the seven nations. If Ashera's judgment had reached as far as Hatari, than she highly doubted it would ever be the same again. Her people would be in the dark about what had occurred, more than likely overrun by the outlanders to the south in the midst of it all.
I can't imagine that they're taking it well.
"That's a long time," he said softly. Nailah hmmed in disagreement, and shifted her weight, a small smile forming on her face.
"You won't be alone," She began. Rafiel frowned. "Besides your goose of a brother, Volug will be staying here with you as well." He was shaking his head before she even finished.
"No, he should go with you." It was Nailah's turn to look puzzled. Her wolf tail swayed behind her, catching a few beams of sunlight through the morning's fog and reflecting rays of silver along the frosted ground. She crossed her muscular arms to keep out the chill, the bangles around her arms jingling.
"Why?"
He took several steps towards her, just a breath away from her face. He then gave her a soft, brave smile, eyes luminous. "You'll come back to me all the sooner if you have assistance, my queen."
.
0o0o0o0
.
Nailah pulled on her shirt quickly and efficiently, the gold adornments around her neck clinking together as she moved around her room, preparing for her departure. She gave it a sharp yank and the dark silken material slid over her body in a ripple, molding itself to her curves comfortably. She stepped lightly over to the nearby basin of water for washing her face, and gave her appearance a sharp stare.
They'll hardly recognize me when I return…
She glanced down at her clothes, frowning at the tears and the stains of Begnion Soldiers' blood that ran along the silken material in an ugly pattern. A slash through the side displayed an ugly scar from an unlucky hit from a halberdier, and the feathered material on her back where she'd been struck by a fire sage. It was hardly suitable for a Hatarian queen to be seen in such a fashion, her people would critique. Did she have no pride? Dignity? What of grace and upbringing?
I'll buy some new garments before I cross the desert. These should hold up long enough for the journey to Nevassa, at least. I'm sure Micaiah has some type of seamstress that could be put to use before I make the crossing…
A click resounded behind her, and Nailah turned, her wolf ears twitching towards the noise. She glanced up, meeting the eyes of Volug coming through the open door of their room, a typical frown on his face and a small bag thrown over his shoulder.
"Ah, Volug, there you are. You weren't here this morning. Out hunting?"
He responded with a simple nod in confirmation, his hair shading his eyes as he closed the door with a bare foot. Nailah frowned and gave him a look. "Speak," she ordered. "Keep practicing this tongue. You can't get by on body language alone, even though I may understand it; the others aren't as used to it as myself."
He scowled, his lips pulled down tightly. "…I am… still attempting. It is… very difficult..." Nailah's own lips twitched in amusement as she shuffled around the room, gathering her garments that were strung along in various places to dry from the frosted grass she had lazed about in earlier.
"You're getting better. Just keep working on it." Volug scowled but nodded anyway.
"…Here. Take." Nailah turned her head back around at his voice, glancing at the bag that he held in his hand. He held it out to her, gesturing for her to take it from him. She frowned curiously before abandoning her small chore and walking over halfway, her feet padding against the cold, gray stone beneath her; the fire in the room provided little heat or warmth for her.
"What's in it?" Volug crossed the distance to Nailah and reached a tattooed hand inside, removing it delicately to reveal several fine robes, some of silk; others of a thick durable cloth, one even made of a luminous satin with ranging colors. Nailah immediately knew what they were intended for.
So that's what he's been up to lately. No wonder I've seen so little of Rafiel… I wonder if he didn't subconsciously know I would be leaving and made these…
"New traveling clothes; Reyson supplied them for us this morning." Volug spoke easily in his ancient tongue and tossed the leather bag to the side carelessly, letting one of the robes unfold from an uplifted hand. He held it up to his body, frowning at the obvious size differences. "Think you could help me squeeze into these? They're a bit of a tight fit, but with some help…"
Nailah gave him a dirty look, and he humorously poked a finger through one of the many arrow size holes on her side, pinching her skin teasingly, before she smacked his hand away irately with a grunt. "Um… Ouch?"
Watch it. I'd hate to have to maim my own bodyguard over something so ridiculous...
Nailah raised an eyebrow, snatching one of the robes from his hand to examine while he shook off his injury, an unsullied grin on his face all the while. "You're being generous today," she remarked dryly, giving a small tug on one of the expertly woven sleeves. It stretched perfectly, and she grinned slightly, all ready turning her back.
"Part of my charm," Volug smirked.
"Yeah? Well keep it to yourself next time." Nailah flicked her tail in his face disapprovingly before giving him a pointed look. "Turn around while I change." Volug complied with a sigh, and turned to face the unappealing far side of the room, his hazel eyes flickering to the window outside, watching the sunbeams lazily with little interest in the weather. A small scented breeze of forest woods floated up through the window, and Nailah felt little goose bumps creep up the back of her arms and legs in response as she stripped.
"So… You spoke with Rafiel this morning, I heard." Nailah dropped her gold adornments and burgundy silken robes to the ground, pushing them away lightly with a naked foot.
"Yes. What of it?" Her response was muffled.
"He knows what you're up to?"
"Mm, somewhat. You could say that, I suppose."
Volug crossed him arms against his bare chest. "That's awfully vague."
Nailah wriggled the new black silk down over her chest, growling as the material yanked on her hair and ears brutally, flattening them momentarily. "I don't recall having asked for your opinion on the matter," she answered.
"Well, I gave it."
"Obviously."
The slip came next, a thick cloth of unorthodox colors and patterns, full of weaves of brightly colored threads; maroon, oranges, and thin violets tied together reminded Nailah silently of home, with the dunes and rugged mountains, and farther away to the south, the humid and damp landscape that she resided in moreover with the majority of her people. She wondered if Rafiel hadn't been the person behind the color scheme, and Reyson merely his pupil for the fabricating part. She found it difficult to picture Reyson doing any sort of work that did not involve a good argument or shouting contest; the heron was born for politics with his impassive expressions much more than sewing.
"…What do you think Hatari will be like when we return? Do you think the Goddess's Judgment affected our nation? Or do you think we will have been spared by her wrath?" Nailah froze mid-reach; her hand was paused out and over the next piece of material.
That's a question I would like to know the answer to as well…
"I… I do not know. I would hope not, but considering how much damage Ashera caused here, I wouldn't be surprised if the same thing happened to our nation. I most certainly hope it did not, though it's rather unlikely. We'll have enough problems as it is, explaining our lengthy disappearances and dealing with the outlanders that more than likely moved in while we've been away."
"They'll be the least of our problems. I'll take a unit out and they'll flee like the vermin they are before we even have to do anything," the sound of a fist colliding with an open palm made Nailah snort. "Explaining the war will be the difficult part. Do you have anything in mind yet to tell the Elders?"
Nailah wriggled the silk up her legs, mumbling incoherently as it ran the silver fur of her tail the wrong way, fluffing it so. "A bit, though nothing written in stone. I need to know what I've missed before I risk explaining anything to them. You know how they would react." The sound of feet scuffling came her way, and she turned her head over her shoulder, watching Volug warmly. He looked annoyed.
"I hate politics."
Nailah grinned and reached for her leather belt nearby, pulling it around her waist comfortably, and snapping the gold buckle on it with a sweet click of success.
"Mm… Should have told that to the Begnion Senate."
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0o0o0o0
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Edward picked up his pace, leading the way down the trail before him quickly and efficiently, pausing now and again to toss a look over his shoulder for his companion, only reassured when he heard the light breathing in his ear, and the belligerent whisper of a, "I'm right behind you," and the firm nudge in his back from a long, curved bow to continue, would he move his feet and bound down the trail, nearly slipping in the mud and the plants that surrounded him each and every time. He'd hear a laugh, and a hand would reach out and slap him on the shoulder before it'd disappear for a while and Edward would stop once more to be sure of his ghostly presence, and the process would repeat itself all over again with another nudge in the back.
It's how it had been going on for most of the day, and he was thoroughly sick of it all. Routines were boring, despite the physical in-shape benefits that some of them provided.
Ugh… I want to sleeeeeep… Hope Leo can tolerate the floor, because I'M taking the bed when we find an inn…
They'd been traveling for the majority of the early afternoon, moving towards the southwestern border of Daein at the request of Queen Micaiah, who had written a significant letter earlier that day –something to do with 'detecting' some important company close at hand, Edward had been told by Sothe– and asked if they would be so kind as to make the long walk –horseback would take longer along the roads, especially with the reconstruction– to deliver it to an old friend, who could apparently be of use:
Nolan.
Edward had agreed without a second thought upon the mention of his friend's name, more out of the prospect of getting to see him again rather than the letter's delivery that was the main intent of his even leaving Daein Keep at all. Leonardo volunteered to accompany him –someone had to keep a level head and remember the reason for which they left in the first place, he'd explained– even though he had more pressing matters to attend do, the small break from the claustrophobia of training soldiers day in and day out was too appealing to pass up; being a General was tough business, and Edward was a natural walking-talking-stress reliever to his euphoria.
"Hey, Ed… there's a village up ahead. That isn't Noreh, is it?"
Edward snapped out of his exhausted trance and glanced up and over at his companion, following his gaze to where he looked. He brought his hand up to his face to block the setting sunlight from his eyes, squinting with difficulty at the small settlement not too far away. Small, gray, drab inns and pubs lined the streets, the buildings flowing with little to no activity at all, and the few active civilians' features impossible to discern from his current position. The trees in his vision didn't help much, either.
"Yeah, that's Noreh all right… I think." Edward paused, taking in the damage and destruction of the city from what he could see. "Jeez, it looks even worse than Nevassa. Guess Begnion punched here harder than it did back home, eh?"
Leo nodded, his blonde bangs falling into his eyes. "Yeah… we should mention it to Micaiah when we get back. She would want to know about this, since it hasn't been taken care of yet." Edward watched his companion silently, nodding his head in agreement tiredly.
"Sure thing," he yawned and covered his mouth, blinking away tears of fatigue. "You can tell her, since you're good at all that business and technical stuff…" Edward had to bite back another yawn, this one from boredom. Oh, the desire to sleep was on the verge of overwhelming. He felt as though he were going to topple over any second, his legs slightly shaky from the exertion of running so much of the day, trying to maintain a strict pace, and his eyelids feeling heavy and dull from squinting. He tossed a glance at his companion, who much the same could be said for.
Leonardo didn't look too much better, covered in mud and various scrapes on vulnerable patches of flesh where branches had scratched at his face and hands as he ran. It didn't help that he carried his bow on his back, Edward supposed, an awkward piece of weaponry to be running at high speeds through the forests with that could easily get tangled on any low hanging branches too low. Edward wondered if that's what had been slowing him down most of the day…
"Yeah, I guess… We'll talk about that later though. Right now, we need to focus on finding Nolan. He's probably staying in a cheap inn somewhere—or having a drink." Leo frowned, contemplating, Edward guessed, before turning to his companion with an inquiring facial expression. "Did you bring it? The letter?" Leo's eyebrows rose expectantly on his face, easily overshadowing his cobalt colored eyes.
Edward nodded blearily in an attempt to remember, and locked his hands behind his lower back, stretching the various kinks out meanwhile. "Uh-hunh… Yeah, it's in my back pocket." Edward laughed as Leonardo winced in sync with each crack of his back, his eye twitching erratically. The sniper looked away, still wincing.
"Stop that, would you?" Leo shuddered, his blonde hair shaking slightly as he did so. "Let's go before you break something, please. I don't think I'd be able to carry you very far if you did."
Edward grinned. "Sure. The sooner we arrive, the better." They set off quickly, their destination not far off, and getting closer by the seconds that ticked by.
The closer they neared the village, the louder it got they discovered, though even then, it was not by much. Evening was setting in, and the pubs and inns were filling up with travelers and locals, all in search of a good time and a round of drinks. The stale smell of sweat and alcohol filled his nose profusely, and Edward found himself all ready imagining the various bar fights that would probably go down during the night, and he slowly felt his excitement level rise at the prospect of it considerably as he marched down one of the main streets. Leo glanced over, a frown on his face.
"Hey, contain yourself, would you? Your enthusiasm is beginning to glow over there."
Pessimist. Cheer up, Leo.
Edward let his eyes flicker over, giving Leo a look. "Relax. I'm just thinking." Leo scowled in disbelief, looking around the streets nervously at the people that walked by, as if they were about to pull something from beneath their garments and wage an attack. The people weren't exactly friendly looking, though that's how most Daein's were.
"You must be doing something more than tha–" He paused, his eyes cast downward at Edward's hand wrapped around firmly on his sword hilt. He stared purposely. "Really, Edward? Really? People are giving us funny looks because of that! We don't need to draw any attention to ourselves right now! Not this type of company, at least!" He practically hissed, watching a drunken man stumble down the same path they walked, his expression wasted and ability to walk obviously impaired from one two many shots that evening. He was eyeing Edward's sword arm with intent, and Leo cautiously stepped in front to block the strange man's view of the weapon. Leo whispered urgently, backing up all the while. "Come on, before you accidentally start something." Edward's expression began to sour.
"Relax, I'm not here to cause trouble. I don't plan on starting anything unless someone else attacks firs—hey, wait! Leo– Oh, come on!"
Edward was almost dragged off his feet as Leo snatched him under the arm brusquely, dragging him along with him to the nearest building nearby where no suspicious looking people lurked—or so Edward believed Leo to be thinking. He watched his companion in irritation.
The man was drunk. Even if he did attack us, he'd have been easy enough to take! Jeez, Leo's crazy when he's sleep deprived! What the heck was he thinking? He probably just caused a bigger commotion than the one that could have happened, and he chews me out for my decision making skills?
Gah… I give up.
He eyed the building with mild curiosity, though nothing more than that. Ugly, gray stones and cheap window pane glass for the third floor apertures made up the building's boring exterior, and an even nastier shade of gray and hideous contrasting curtains made up the reception room, lit poorly with melted candles and oil drenched torches. He wondered if the rooms were cheap enough for Nolan to afford. Edward felt himself slowly losing energy as he investigated the room with his eyes, and he sighed, forcing Leo to detach himself from his arm; slowly the blood began to flow back into it from where he had been squeezing.
"I don't think that was necessary," Edward began slowly, rubbing his wrist tenderly. He glanced around the room, his eyes landing on a few people that sat at the bar table in the next room over, their backs turned to him, obviously tied up more in their own conversation then the ones around them, for which he was silently grateful.
Really, we're the Dawn Brigade! Edward wanted to yell out. We're respected veterans, not just anyone people are going to mess with!
"Edward," Leo started, his expression clearly exasperated. "Just because we're well-known doesn't make us invincible. We're just as vulnerable to violence as anyone else—especially you, for some reason." Edward felt himself deteriorate. What was this—Pick on Edward Day?
"Jeez, you really can kill the mood. I wasn't even doing anything but walking around and you started freaking out. Lighten up, would you?" He sighed and reached for the letter in his pocket, pulling it out and shoving it into his companion's lightly-armored chest with little gentleness. "Here, entertain yourself. I'M getting a drink."
"Ed, you can't be serious—you don't ever drink!" Leo's concerned voice only annoyed him further, and Edward ducked his head so his friend couldn't see the anger on his face as he walked past.
"I think this time I have a liable excuse," he almost growled out.
No response came.
Edward grumbled to himself silently as he made his way over to the bar table, an atrocious headache beginning to develop in his head. He weaved his way through several empty tables and a maze of chairs before lightly stopping in front of the slick wooden counter, his head propped up on with an elbow. He waited impatiently for the barkeep to take his order and come around, his mind on Leo's strange behavior all the while.
He had no idea what to make of it. He concluded that sleep deprivation for him was obviously something to be avoided.
Sighing once more, Edward let his face drop on the table with a smack hopelessly. Really, what was he supposed to say when Leo was being so jumpy? Reassurances weren't working, and a lack of trust between them he knew didn't have anything to do with it. Perhaps it really was only fatigue taking its toll…
"Hey, kid. What do you want?" Edward almost jumped, and he glanced up under the hair over his eyes, eying the barkeep over the counter suspiciously. The man didn't look too friendly, with his squinty eyes and overly scruffy beard. Edward swallowed his nervousness.
"A drink," he answered. The barkeep lifted an eyebrow, his expression clearly reading, 'I hate my job.' He frowned. "Something that tastes good though… uh, please, Sir," Edward added on.
Well, he's a keeper.
The man grunted disapprovingly, staring at something over his shoulder at a commotion at the door. "Six gold, kid."
Edward complied and forked around in his pocket, moving his scabbard around on his waist to reach. He pulled out several coins, and began to glower.
Leo had all the gold…
"Um… would you take silver coins?" The barkeep stared, having returned with a small glass in his hand. He frowned.
"Can't pay, can't drink. Get out." Edward sighed pointedly, annoyed by how his evening had been going. The man was hardly even paying attention to him, his attention focused elsewhere.
"Sir, come on! It's just a drink! Look, I'll wash dishes, I'll sweep–"
The man snarled, "I said, get out! Crimeans aren't welcome here, and neither is you mercenary dogs! Leave now!" The barkeep slammed the glass down on the counter loudly, shattering it to pieces. Silence filled the room for only a mere moemt before shuffling feet and chairs scraping the floor in louds squeals echoed around the room as people got up and left, tossing angry looks at whoever was close enough to receive them; Edward recieved marjority.
Edward froze, shocked. Why would the man say that to him, when he was obviously dressed in Daein attire? Didn't he know who the Dawn Brigade was? Who Edward was?
I don't believe this…
He nearly jumped when a hand found its way to his shoulder, squeezing softly on the soft fabric in reassurance. Leo looked down and met his eyes apologetically, before turning his attention to the back of the room, his eyes weary and drained. "Edward? We've got company… unexpected ones."
What is it this time?
He sighed, bracing one hand on the bar stool and the other on his sword, less the company be bandits or the drunken man from earlier. However, the scene that greeted him was truly far from expected as Leo had stated, and Edward could only stare. "Am I seeing things?" he mumbled to Leo, who profusely shook his head.
"No, I see them too," he whispered.
"Oh…"
General Ike's gaze roamed around the room before it finally came to rest on Edward and Leo, his eyes lighting up with recognition as he ignored the barkeep's furious looks at the Crimean. "Hey…" he started out with a smile, walking forward with Nolan and two other companions behind him. "Long time, no see."
Edward really wanted that drink right then.
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0o0o0o0
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(A/N): All right, I'll admit it. I never planned for Edward and Leo to have a part in this, but I thought it'd be an interesting way to display Ike's arrival in Daein. As for the Nailah scenes, I'm extremely proud of those, though they were really difficult to start out with in the beginning. Really, this whole chapter kinda wrote itself. Crazy, eh?
As a side note, I really want to trash the beginning and ending of this chapter, just because it didn't meet my expectations. I make Ranulf sound like a moron, and Ike is reminiscing waaaay too dang much for Ike, and Soren is much more paranoid than I've actually written him. And is it just me, or did the Edward and Leo part sound way different than the rest of my work did (As in, more third person than usual? Crazy OOC? Super choppy writing?)? Maybe I shouldn't be writing at one in the morning anymore…
Ah well. o.o Also, I should probably mention something important, if nobody's caught on yet, but, this story is being based off the COMPLETE endings for RD. As in, Ike fighting the Black Knight (part three, chapter seven, I believe), the Soren and Ike conversation at the end of the game, Ike's memory scene, Sephiran joining Ike to fight Ashera, and last but not least—the truth of Soren's heritage of him being Almedha's true son. Just to say it again, I mean everything is included. I'm not holding anything back, and I'm sorry for not mentioning this sooner… I hope it won't be a problem…
Sorry for that novel of a note; I felt that some things needed to be said. Sometimes I've just got to rant and let loose, you know? :3 Haha, anyways, thanks for reading this enormous chapter! Leave a review if you can, and I'll get back to you on it! :)