Author's note: I probably won't have a chapter up tomorrow, just warning. But hopefully with a little downtime I can get a few done and have a back log to update once a day with. Fingers crossed — my yuletide gift…
Disclaimer: don't own Fire Emblem
…
Elincia stared unhappily into her pack. It was a small one, and full of daily necessities and a few changes of clothes — but completely devoid of anything that hinted at levity. The clothes she wore now matched the ones she'd packed: the light, durable shirt and pants that she would put her armor on over. She plopped down on her bed in a very unqueenly fashion, glaring at the aforementioned suit of armor. It was a relic of House Crimea, like the treasured blade beside it, as beautiful as any item of warfare could be; but it was still for war. Elincia did not want to believe that she would pick up a sword again. It hardly made a difference to her as to why she was doing it — she hated the fighting, the bloodshed, the anger and fear that overtook her on the battlefield, and subsequently her fear of that anger…
War was a terrible thing, no matter why it happened. Elincia had once stood between two mighty armies, completely alone and at odds with both of them, and laid down her sword. She had stood between them utterly defenseless — and she had felt far better then than she did now.
...
"It's stupid to put this off."
"Soren, my friend," Ike mumbled, "if you ran the world, it would be a more efficient place."
Soren snorted, sorting through a stack of books. "I think that's the worst idea you've ever come up with."
A slight smile threatened as memories popped unbidden into Ike's mind. "Really?"
An uncharacteristic pause. "Maybe not," the tactician admitted.
Ike dropped the last of the maps on Soren's table and leaned back against a bookshelf, crossing his arms. "You sure you're up to this again?" he asked more quietly and seriously.
"This is what I do," Soren replied calmly. "If you're going to lead the company again, you need me. If you ask me to come up with strategies, I need to renew my familiarity with Daein's geography, among other things." He looked up from an ancient tome with narrowed crimson eyes. "I suspect you're not going to make yourself useful here."
Ike couldn't argue. "Soren, how many libraries d'you think we visited? And when was I ever interested?"
The slim strategist sighed. "You should get some sleep."
"So should you," he countered.
"I don't need it."
"Sure."
"I don't."
"Soren."
He slammed the book closed. "Ike, there's no time, and you know it. If the rest of them are going to waste a week, I can't." He took a deep breath and pulled the maps toward him. "Go get some sleep. If you can't do that, I'm sure some other idiot is out there training. Do something useful."
Ike sighed silently. Soren's acerbic tongue had returned full strength. The boy had grown less sarcastic during his travels with Ike, though he remained suspicious enough for an entire kingdom. Ike couldn't really blame him for the anger he'd buried deep or the frustration he felt upon returning to Tellius. They had never talked about coming back, until the day they both knew that they had to.
It wasn't exactly a great homecoming.
...
Sothe closed the door to their private room quietly. He heard a sigh behind him, and turned to see Micaiah collapsed onto the sofa with a thump. She hid her face in her hands with a quiet moan. "Is Daein ever going to recover?" she whispered. "Am I going to be always in charge of a war? Have… Sothe, have I done more harm than good here… has my presence, my reign, just doomed the country I serve?"
"Stop that," Sothe murmured. He knelt in front of her, pulling her hands away from her face. She looked at him with tears in her gold eyes. Sothe brushed her silver hair out of her face. She was gold and silver, and far more precious to him than either. "We'll get through this," he promised, pressing his lips gently to her forehead. "Daein is lucky to have you, Micaiah. They realized it when we were the Dawn Brigade, and they never doubted you even during the war against the Laguz Alliance. If you have to stand and fight on Daein soil to defend all of Tellius, everyone will stand with you." He brushed a tear from the corner of her eye. "Especially me. I'll be right in front of you."
Micaiah almost smiled. "The expression is 'right behind you'."
Sothe shook his head. "No, in front. So I can protect you."
"Sothe…" she curled her hand to his cheek, and he leaned into her warmth. "Thank you," she whispered against his lips. Her hand pressed lightly over his heart as she kissed him, and as always he marveled at her warmth — the warmth of her kiss and of her soul. It worked its way inside his heart, unlocked that which he hid from everyone else, allowing him to give her the gentleness that he'd so often feared he'd lost. But there was still compassion and gentleness in him, even after everything — as long as Micaiah was there.
Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Micaiah murmured "I should—"
"It can wait." Sothe shifted up onto the couch and gathered her into his arms. She made one half-hearted protest; then she snuggled into him. Her hand rested half-curled on his chest. She lay her head on his shoulder, and he rested his cheek on her soft hair. This was perfection, he thought, running his hand slowly up and down her arm. Feeling Micaiah relax against him, almost dozing in his arms, warm in the sunlight streaming through the window. He knew that things couldn't stay this way — they both knew, but he was willing to shoulder that knowledge for her, because he could put it aside. He had been a thief, and perhaps he always would be: because he could put aside a crisis and steal one shining moment with the woman he loved.
...
Queen Nailah stood at the gates of her ruined city, feeling the desert wind brush through her hair. She glared at the firelight in the near distance, wondering if she had the strength to go all the way to their camp and wreak her vengeance. The thought seemed more and more appealing by the second. Some of them would freeze under her murderous stare alone. Others would come at her. She would not feel pain if they touched her. She would feel their flesh tear and their blood flow under her fangs, she would hear their screams of terror and agony as she ripped through their camp, she would see their bodies sprawled and strewn on the ground at her red-stained paws…
"Don't."
Her lips lifted in the barest beginnings of a snarl, the closest she had ever come to snapping at the white figure. Rafiel simply stood there, though, knowing her heart better than she did at the moment. No matter what happened, she would never hurt him. She didn't look at him. She didn't want the serenity that he breathed. She wanted revenge. But Rafiel's lament for Hatari still echoed in the air and her heart. She trembled with rage and sadness, two warring sides of her each seeking something different.
"Goddess damn it, Rafiel," she sighed at last. "You should let me go."
His slender hand touched her tattooed arm. "You promised you wouldn't."
She shot him a glance. "I don't recall this."
"You promised you would not leave me alone. If you go, you will die. That would break your promise." Again she thought about snarling, and glared at the desert briefly before jerking her one-eyed gaze back to the heron prince. His long golden hair shifted in the cold night breeze, and he shivered. "I know how you feel," he murmured. His green eyes pierced her. "You lost. They came and attacked, and you weren't here as you should have been. You didn't see it coming, and so you weren't here in time, and you lost your city, and half your people, to these strangers—"
"Stop it," she hissed. "Stop that this instant."
His hand tightened around her wrist. "Nailah, please. You're hurt. You're tired. You've run from halfway to Daein in the sun to get here and fight. You can't go after them — not now or ever, if you're alone, do you understand me? Never go after them alone." His melodic voice trembled slightly. "Please, Nailah."
The wolf queen stared at him for a long moment, torn. Then she tipped back her head and howled her grief and anger to the rising moon.
"They will pay for this," she said slowly, lowering her head. "Mark my words, Rafiel. I care not for peace any more, be it under the threat of Ashunera herself. I will not rest until these strangers have felt the pain of each one of my wolves. They will pay."
She whirled away. "Volug!" she snapped. Her right hand loped closer, having kept his distance while she talked with Rafiel. "Get them ready to move," Nailah ordered, and her biggest victory of the day was keeping her voice steady at that moment. "We will cross the desert to Daein. We have much to tell Micaiah."
…
…
PS: to my reviewers:
Tom-Ato13 — yeah, I didn't want to make the couples the most important part of the story, but I felt like it needed to be mentioned at least somewhere. I think everybody's covered… did I miss a canon couple? I haven't tried all the bond supports, I know. And yeah, after five or six years, I thought there should be a reason why Micaiah didn't have an heir yet. And better yet, a depressing reason. :/ unfortunately that's the way my brain works.
NiRvAnAaDvAnCiNg95 — first, I haven't said thanks for being the first to review :) second, (and also to anybody reading) if you're sitting on any brilliant Soren-like ideas that you don't think you'll use, I'll find a place for them (meaning I'll be eternally grateful and my war won't end after three battles cuz of running out of ideas… I need a magic hat.)
Thanks to everybody reading, I hope you like it, feel free to review.