TW: Mentions of past abuse and blood.

The battle started normally enough, but the reinforcements from behind were not according to plan. It was manageable, though in his sleep-deprived state, Soren had miscounted: there was another myrmidon.

"Soren! Behind you!" He dodged, but not soon enough. The steel sword sliced his arm, rendering it useless for the time being. With his other arm held the wound tightly to prevent further loss of blood, Soren could only dodge the attacks and hope someone would bail him out, or that he could gain a tactical advantage from the terrain. The latter seemed unlikely, but he scrambled backwards in retreat as best as he could.

How had he missed that? No matter-self deprecation could always come later, but right now, he needed to focus on one task at a time. There wasn't much cover in the area, but perhaps retreating towards an ally would be best. He spotted the scarlet-haired knight on her white steed effortlessly knocking an enemy paladin clear off his horse with a silver axe.

Ike noticed his distress first, though. Of course-he was the one who warned him initially. He incapacitated the warrior in front of him, and then stabbed the aforementioned myrmidon in the back. He crumbled wordlessly. After many battles, the shock of killing wore off. Each mercenary coped in their own way.

"Soren! Are you alright?" Stirred from his musings and attention returning to the pain, Soren shook his head to clear his thoughts. It was only afterwards that he processed Ike's question.

"It's deep, but I can keep going once I use my mend staff." He winced after jostling his arm to get the staff from his belt. Blood began to stain the bottom of his sleeve. He finally got it free, situating the staff awkwardly but near his wounded arm, and…

Nothing.

At first confused, he tried again.

Still, nothing.

Then he realized the truth— he couldn't speak. Not a healing chant, nor any words at all.

Whips of panic emerged on his features. His brain was all too happy to fill in the shouts of the old mage and the townspeople among the chaos of the real battle around them. He didn't understand when they called him a filthy branded at the time, but now, he could no longer bask in such innocence. He tried to clear his thoughts, but it was as though submerged under water and the line between past and present blurred all around him.

"Soren!? What's going on!?"

"Commander! How is he?" The ruby-haired knight approached on her horse after clearing the immediate area.

"I don't know! He went to heal and… Blast!" Soren started shaking, pure unbridled terror coming into his eyes. "I think he's been silenced! We need to get him healed and restored!"

"Ilyana is the closest with Marcia, Mia, and Tanith, but they are surrounded. I don't think it would be safe to bring him over. The Princess is up North with Astrid and Geoffrey, and Mist is to the West with Boyd, Oscar, and Kieran, but those are both pretty far away. It may be safest to take him back to camp with Rhys."

"You're right." Ike knew he had to be calm about this. Soren needed him. "Titania, can you take him back?" Soren's knees gave out. Despite the injury to his other arm, he gripped onto Ike's cape. Horseback would be significantly faster, but the stubborn wind mage would sooner die than show vulnerability to someone other than Ike. "On second thought, take over here. I'll take him back."

"Understood!" She rode off, chopping the enemy mage likely responsible for Soren's ailment along the way.

"Soren, it's going to be okay, I promise." Ike tore off his headband and did his best to quickly wrap the wound over top of Soren's ripped sleeve, then shuffled the wind mage on top of his back, holding his legs. "I need you to hold that wound, Soren. That's an order. I can't carry you and put pressure on it."

Still trembling, Ike felt Soren nod against the back of his neck. With the frail man as secured as he could be on his back, Ike took off running towards camp.

Slightly winded, Ike shouted. "Rhys! I know you are unwell, but it's an emergency!"

"I'm in here, Ike!" His voice sounded faint, but he would always help if he could. "Soren's hurt and he's been silenced. Can you help?"

"I will do my best. Can you lay him down?" Ike nodded and proceeded to ease Soren off his back onto the roll beside Rhys.

"Mist has my mend stave, but I can restore him at least…" Rhys murmured something with the staff, and a glow overcame the wind mage. Finally, it felt like he was no longer underwater. He tried his voice.

"…Thanks." Soren using manners towards someone other than Ike… That just illustrated how terrible of shape he was in.

Rhys looked like he might collapse, but he asked "Soren, do you have a mend stave? We need to take care of your arm…"

The wind mage sat up and felt along his waist.

"I think I dropped it... I'll just use a vulnerary." Rhys and Ike both looked at the wound doubtfully, but without a staff, there wasn't much else to be done. "I can use someone else's later if needed. Now if you'll excuse me…" With as much dignity as he could muster, Soren struggled to his feet, met by protests by both other occupants.

"You are in no condition to stand up right now!"

"I…" He tried not to flinch as a wave of dizziness and pain overtook him as the adrenaline wore off. "I'm fine…" he gritted out. After taking another step, though, the world swirled around him and his vision dimmed. Ike caught him before he hit the ground.

"I'll take it from here. Get some rest, Rhys." Ike dragged the stubborn mage into his tent.

"Alright, you've made your point, Ike! You can leave now…" Soren clumsily undid the make-shift bandage over his wound. Of course, he had aggravated it more when he almost face-planted and had to be rescued by Ike. Again. Deep-rooted shame bloomed inside, so he looked away.

"Look, I don't know what's been going on with you lately, but I'm not leaving. At least not until I know you're okay. Now come on, we need to get your arm out of the sleeve, unless you just want me to tear it off."

Concealed behind his many layers were innumerable scars. That on its own wouldn't be particularly unique for a group of mercenaries. These scars were different, though, and a group living through combat and injury would be able to tell the difference. He worked ceaselessly over the years to make sure no one would ever see.

He recalled one time when the members of the village ganged up on him. Not only was he a freak of nature who couldn't speak, but he had the blood of a filthy sub-human in him. Only, he didn't know at the time-he hadn't understood what it meant to be Branded.

Suddenly, he was a child once more, just looking for food. But, since his very existence was an affront to the goddess, the treated him as such.

They chained him to a tree, arms and legs spread from his torso. Gravity made the ill-fitting shackles cut lines into his wrists and ankles. He was there for days. Soren really thought he would die there, almost hoping for it, until one link in the chain fatigued and gave out, allowing mobility of his arm. From there, he struggled and managed to free himself.

That wasn't until after they had thrown rocks at him while restrained.

Rocks weren't even the worst of it…

And what would happen if anyone saw? If Ike saw?

"No! I'm fine, just leave!"

"I won't. We don't have time for this! I'm not going to let you bleed out because of your stubborn modesty!"

"It's not that…" Soren averted his gaze. If only it were simple modesty…

"Soren. Shirt off now or lose a sleeve. That's an order. You're not dying here. You can get angry with me later."

Soren sighed. He couldn't go around without a sleeve… especially not on that arm. That arm was where they burned him… Hot metal usually used for cattle identification. The man said that one mark wasn't enough because he needed a reminder of his place…

Soren wouldn't disobey a direct order, but he felt betrayed that his friend would pull rank on him for a second time, over something he clearly didn't want to do.

His only friend.

He struggled to untuck the dark robes and undershirt from his belts, even after further loosening them. Ike helped to lift the many layers up his torso and over his good arm. Soren heard the sharp and surprised intake of breath. He clenched his eyes shut in response.

Ike had seen.

The many scars from long before he was on the battlefield—The worst of which, still concealed behind the sleeve with the new injury, but the numerous marks from his back towards his right ribs after getting flogged were also pretty gruesome. He waited for Ike to say something. Soren was unsure if he was more relieved or concerned that the other man remained silent. Once his one arm was free and he pulled the neck and bottom hems over his head, the bluenette was focused on the injury.

"This is going to be rough. Some of the dried blood caked your undershirt to the wound."

"…I assumed as much. Just do it."

Ike nodded, and as gently but efficiently as possible, separated the fabric from the skin. Soren bit his lip, but couldn't prevent the hiss of pain from escaping that eventually subdued into a whimper.

Thankfully, Soren was always prepared and had some clean water already in a pouch. He haphazardly pointed Ike in the direction of it. The commander used it to clean out the cut.

The vulnerary was cool on the wound, and provided a bit of relief from the pain. Not very much, though. Ike took a second one from his own pocket and dumped that one on as well. It still hurt a lot, but at least he was no longer bleeding actively. After fumbling around the mildly unfamiliar tent, he found the bandages and re-dressed the cut. While the vulnerary may have healed the top layer or two of skin, at the slightest bump, it would be likely to open again.

"Alright, now don't move your arm around. At least not until someone can get a mend staff in here."

"Is that another order, commander?" Soren asked dryly.

"Does it need to be?" Ike grabbed the nearby blanket and draped it over Soren's shoulders. It seemed safer than trying to get his arms through sleeves again, and would obscure his view from the marks that the petite man clearly did not want to talk about.

"I suppose not." He sighed as he pulled the blanket closer to himself. Exhaustion swept over him, but he knew he wouldn't be able to rest with the uneasy feeling in the air. He could feel himself being watched intently. "…Look, whatever you have to say, just say it."

"…The reason you never change around anyone is because of your scars." It wasn't a question. It was blunt and to the point, as always.

"That's correct. I don't want pity and I don't want to answer questions."

"Are they from the sage?"

Leave it to Ike to ask a question anyway. But, Soren relented and answered with a sigh despite his discomfort. He would never deny Ike anything he asked.

"…Some are. A few are from before him. Most are from the village people, though."

"I'm sorry, Soren… I want you to tell me about it, but I can tell you're exhausted. I just have one last question."

The raven-haired man sighed. "What is it?"

"Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something?"

"… That's two questions."

"Soren…"

His head hurt, on top of the pain radiating from his arm. And the prior sleep deprivation mixed with the blood loss made it near impossible to continue clinging to consciousness.

"You… are not responsible for why I was avoiding you…I just… I didn't want you to see that I'm weak…" That mumbled confession sapped the last of his energy. He immediately succumbed to a restless sleep.

Ike just watched, fairly exhausted himself, but concern kept him up. Worry consumed him, both over the man in front of him and the unknown nature of the battlefield. He had faith in all of his comrades, but he hated the thought of leaving there. Still, he recognized that he had to be the one to help Soren. The mage would sooner die than show that vulnerable side to anyone else—even Titania. He wished that were an exaggeration.

"… Commander, are you in there?"

His musings were interrupted. Ike looked back at Soren, still lying relatively motionless outside of some shallow breathing. He stepped outside. Speak of the devil.

"Titania! Is everyone okay?"

"Yes, we were successful. There were minor injuries, but everyone was able to be patched up pretty quickly. How is Soren?"

"It's hard to say… Rhys was able to stop him from being silenced, but we only had vulneraries for the injury. Does Ilyana still have the physic stave on her?"

While momentary confusion passed over the woman's face, it was quickly replaced by understanding.

"Yes… She should. Should I send her over?"

"Please do. And Titania?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

She rested her hand on Ike's shoulder. Her gaze was motherly.

"Of course. Please look out for him. If you'll excuse me…"

Ike ducked back into the tent. He had to double check to make sure that Soren was still breathing. Ike was determined to keep a watchful eye over his friend. While he didn't really move, the mage's eyes scrunched in discomfort. Ike stared at the blanket, thinking of the scars he was never supposed to see. The intrusive thoughts of wondering what his friend must have been through made Ike feel nauseous. In all the years he'd known him, Soren never mentioned them. He hadn't mentioned anything at all of his past until recently, and it seemed like that was only because the raven-haired man was crumbling piece by piece. But, he suffered alone, always refusing help. 'Doesn't he trust me? I just want to help him out…'

Ike was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard an odd gurgling noise followed by a moan of agony outside the tent. He stepped back out.

"Ilyana?"

"Ooh… Sorry… I'm just so hungry…"

"Did you eat something?"

"Mia gave me a piece of bread before I came over… Ooh… Titania said you needed me?"

"Yes… Listen, if you can do something for me and not ask any questions, you can have my portion tonight."

Amethyst eyes looked up, brimming with hope.

"Really?"

"Yes, but I mean it. No questions."

Her stomach growled loudly. "Understood. What do you need?"

"Can you physic Soren's arm from outside the tent?"

"…Yes." She didn't move, though.

"Well, do it then."

"Ooh… I can't. Not yet…"

Irritated, he glared at her. "Why not?"

She flinched. "Well… Ooh… You said no questions, but I can't do it without more information…"

"Sorry…" It wasn't her fault that he was so on edge. Ike took a breath to calm himself. "What do you need to know?"

The thunder mage's stomach made its presence known once more. "…I need to know his position and which arm… Ooh… At least for it to be the most concentrated on the injury…"

"Left bicep, south west corner, facing north."

She nodded, then murmured a spell, lifting the physic stave above her head. Ilyana swayed slightly. Silence fell between them.

"… It's done…"

"Thank you. You're dismissed. Just tell Titania I said you could have my portion."

"Thank you!" She looked so happy, despite being so lethargic. Were those tears of joy gathered at the corner of her eyes? She walked leisurely away, but with slightly more spring in her step than usual.

Ike went back into Soren's tent. He sat down next to the bedroll, truly surveying the room for the first time in a while. Usually, Soren came to him for the reports, not the other way around. There were a couple books, neatly stacked, with scrap pieces of cloth marking various pages. A small, foldable table with the map laid on top was the only real furniture outside of the bedroll. A white candle, which would need to be lit soon in order to see, had five distinct drips cascading down the side where the wax had melted, then re-solidified. Ike leaned his hands in to the tarp-covered ground behind his back, accidentally knocking a bag sideways. The sound was close enough to the sleeping occupant to stir him awake.

"…Ike?"

"Yeah, it's me. How are you feeling?"

"I'm…" He sat up slightly. The bandage had come loose while sleeping, and he noticed that the sharp pain had subsided into a dull ache. Clarity snapped back into his eyes. "…You had someone heal me." His tone was a low and dangerous growl, like a cornered animal.

"Yes."

"You— how could you!? I thought…"

"Soren, you needed it. I won't apologize for that."

"You could have waited until I woke to heal myself! Instead, you… You ruined everything!" He gripped the blanket closer to himself. The mage shook slightly with some unknown combination of wrath and terror.

For once, Ike didn't know what to say. Denying might further provoke him.

"Who did it?!" The furious mage hissed out.

"Ilyana."

"Ilyana!? Are you serious?! She'll tell Mia, and then EVERYONE will know! … Oh, goddess… everyone already knows…"

Mindset spiraling out of control, he immediately reached for the bag. There was no other option. There was no way that Ike could take the side of someone as broken as him over the rest of the mercenaries. And if he waited for Ike to kick him out, then that memory of disappointment on his kind face would haunt him until his death.

He had to leave.