Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 3 ❯ CHAPTER 93: REVELATIONS ( Chapter 27 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

After having his worst wounds healed and regaining consciousness, Nasir requested he be left with Dheginsea and the rest of the fallen Goldoans. “I will try…to make my way down…when I’ve recovered…a bit of my strength,” he mumbled disjointedly, “but I would only…slow you down…in this state.” Ike and Kurthnaga agreed he could stay behind as long as he promised not to die.

Upon leaving him, the mercenaries climbed until they came to another place they could rest. The horses and pegasus had died, so they all carried their own supplies now. That being said, there wasn’t much to carry except the dregs of the water and a few vulneraries.

Mist and the other healers tended their wounds, but more than that, it seemed everyone just wanted to sleep. They wandered in and out of dreams, sometimes shuffling around in their sleep, sometimes mumbling to themselves in a daze. Soren felt the same exhaustion—as if his weariness had sunk so deep into his bones that he would fade away or perhaps crumble from the inside out. He wished he could surrender to a deep sleep, but like everyone else, it seemed he could not fully rest. He only drifted in and out of a half-sleep, sometimes returning to consciousness finding himself standing up and not knowing where he was going or what he was doing. He wondered if they were all losing their minds.

He wanted to talk to Ike about it, but he hadn’t had a real conversation with him since he’d defeated the Black Knight. Although Soren had decided to trust Ike’s ability in the end, he imagined his lack of faith these past couple years couldn’t be expunged so easily. He felt he’d let Ike down. He didn’t know how to communicate his regret while also conveying his gratitude that Ike was alive—or his fear at having come so close to losing him. 

He was sitting alone atop some steps, staring at the swirling abyss, not knowing if he was looking up or down, thinking about all the things he didn’t know how to say, when someone approached him. Turning over his shoulder, he was surprised to see Kurthnaga.

The new Dragon King had hardly said a word since the death of his father, but Soren supposed that was understandable. Then again, he couldn’t quite determine whether Dheginsea had died only a couple minutes ago or a day ago already.

“May I join you?” he asked softly.

“…Fine,” Soren consented, and Kurthnaga lowered himself onto the step beside him. They sat in silence for a while, and eventually Soren wondered if he was supposed to express condolences. “Your father was difficult to defeat,” he ventured, even though that wasn’t the proper thing to say.

“He was… But here we are,” Kurthnaga sighed. Silence stretched between them again, and Soren decided he wouldn’t be the one to break it this time. If Kurthnaga had something to say, he would say it. Eventually, he did. “I don’t have much family left now,” he lamented softly.

“If we cannot defeat Ashera, it won’t matter,” Soren offered. “We could all be headed the same way.”

“You are a very negative person, aren’t you?” Kurthnaga replied with a weak, halfhearted laugh in his voice. “That’s something my father might have said… I’m sorry that we have never truly spoken before.”

Soren glanced at him quizzically. After all, Kurthnaga had never seemed particularly chatty. He decided to give up this charade. “Is there something you want from me or not?”

Kurthnaga glanced at him in surprise, but then his expression settled into a penetrating stare. “There is something I wish to tell you, but I want to be certain before I do.”

“Certain of what?” Soren replied skeptically.

“Please bear with me a moment,” Kurthnaga asked gently, while placing one hand on either side of Soren’s head and closing his eyes.

Soren went rigid at the touch, but he didn’t pull away. For now, he was willing to let the strange, grief-stricken dragon do what he wanted.

When Kurthnaga opened his eyes, they were wide in wonder. “She was right… Of course, she was right.”

“What are you talking about?” Soren asked in annoyance. He twitched his head away, and Kurthnaga dropped his arms. He also scooted farther back, as if to see Soren better; he was still staring.

“Soren… I need to tell you something important. My sister, Almedha, asked me not to, but if I’m to be king, I want to rule honestly.” As soon as he said this, he seemed to reconsider and gave his head a quick, sharp shake. “No, that’s not it… The truth is, I don’t have much family left, and I want to do right by those who remain.”

“Fine then. What does your sister want?”

“Nothing.” Kurthnaga’s explanation came slowly. “She says she doesn’t need you to do anything… But I think it would be good for her, if you’d be willing to sit down and talk to her when all of this is over.”

“Why would I do that?” Soren asked, suddenly feeling nervous. His fingers twitched, and he wanted to leave the young dragon to his ramblings.

“Because she is your mother,” he answered softly.

Soren was on his feet in an instant, but he had nowhere to go. He was rooted to the spot, frozen and dizzy. “…What?”

“She told me before we entered the tower. Please, I’ll explain everything I know. Just sit down.”

“No…” Soren shook his head in confusion. He took a single step downward, but again he was frozen. Kurthnaga’s claim echoed in his head. Of course, Soren had wanted to know the identity of his parents his entire life, but he’d put that search aside. He’d never honestly believed he would discover the truth, and he certainly never imagined he’d discover it this way. Not here, at the end of space and time. Not from some strange laguz he hardly knew.

“Sit,” Kurthnaga commanded more forcefully, and Soren finally obeyed. “As you may have guessed, Pelleas is not her true son. She was keeping her identity a secret while living in Daein, and Pelleas didn’t even know she was laguz until I arrived at Nox.” He shook his head sadly. “I think that is when he started suspecting the truth. After all, he does not have the blood of a Parentless like you.”

“Parentless…” Soren repeated, and his voice felt oddly disconnected from his own ears.

“Of course, the name is hardly accurate,” Kurthnaga amended awkwardly. “Do you prefer the beorc name for your kind: Branded?”

Soren shook his head. “It doesn’t matter…”

Kurthnaga took a quiet, yet deep breath before continuing: “Pelleas must have suspected you. He tried to arrange for you and Almedha to meet, if only for a moment. When she did see you… She recognized you instantly. Soren, you made her so happy just to see you again.”

“The other day…” he thought aloud, remembering the severity in her eyes. “Why- why didn’t she say anything?”

“My sister… She has learned to become careful with her heart. She gave it all to Pelleas, believing him to be her lost son. But he grew uncomfortable with her smothering and began rejecting her even before discovering the truth. She feels she has already lost one son. I’m sure she is reluctant to open herself up again.”

Soren wasn’t fond of the idea of motherly smothering, but neither could he deny that he wished to meet her, to ask her his questions, to know why he’d grown up alone, to know if she’d ever gone back to Galina’s hovel to look for him.

“I am sorry,” Kurthnaga sympathized, “This must be a lot to take in.”

“If she is…then who…” Soren couldn’t manage the words. He feared he already knew the answer, and it turned his blood cold.

“Who was your father?” Kurthnaga supplied. “Almedha assures me she has loved no other than the late King Ashnard. Again, I am sorry… I heard that you helped to defeat that man.”

Soren shivered involuntarily, trying to recall the face of the madman who had tried to throw the world into chaos. “That…can’t be true,” he mumbled, but even while he said it, Kurthnaga’s claim felt undeniable. Could Ashnard’s blood truly run in his veins—the same hate, the same ruthlessness, the same disregard for others’ lives? Yes, it could.

Kurthnaga offered a consoling chuckle, apparently oblivious to the turmoil in Soren’s mind. “Well, you didn’t get your complexion from our side of the family, that is for certain.” Reaching out a hand, he touched his cheek, and Soren wasn’t sure whether it was the touch or the joke that caused him to shiver in revulsion. Once again, Kurthnaga stared into his eyes. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before… But I am certain now. We are kin.”

Soren jerked his head away, unable to look at the Dragon King any longer. Long ago, when he’d first seen Kurthnaga from afar, he’d thought it was like looking in a mirror. But he had buried that feeling. He had denied it, discounted it as foolishness.

“Although other laguz may call you Parentless,” Kurthnaga said gently, dropping his hand, “I know Almedha would accept you…if you’ll have her. You need not call me uncle, but I would provide for you as one, if you so wish. I know Ena, too, would welcome you into our family.”

“…Does Ena know?” Soren asked, finally managing to escape the thought of Ashnard. This brought another, much more urgent question: “Does Nasir know?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Kurthnaga answered, but Soren wasn’t convinced. That man had always looked straight through him. “I will not tell a soul if you do not wish it,” he continued, “Neither need I tell Almedha that I told you. Whether you reach out to her…that is your choice alone.”

Soren dropped his head into his hands. This was too much. It felt like a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. He wondered if this could merely be the tower’s madness seeping into his mind. Or perhaps Kurthnaga was the one who’d gone mad with grief after losing his father. My grandfather… Soren thought, and the idea sent a wave of confusion through his body like nausea. Words like ‘grandfather’, ‘uncle’, ‘mother’—these concepts had never had any meaning to him. They did not have faces.

“I see this is difficult for you,” Kurthnaga observed. “Perhaps we can talk about this more later.”

“No.” Soren lifted his head. “We could all be dead later.” He took a steadying breath. “Just tell me what you know.”

“Very well.” Kurthnaga brought his hands together. “…Almedha left Goldoa because our home had always felt like a prison to her. She wanted freedom. She met Prince Ashnard and fell in love.”

“He was a genocidal maniac,” Soren growled, suddenly personally offended by the Mad King’s crimes.

“True…” Kurthnaga admitted, “I do not agree with my sister’s choices. But whatever the case…they were married quietly, and then they had you.”

Soren sat frozen, unable to look at Kurthnaga but desperate to hear the story.

“My sister lost her ability to transform,” he continued sadly, “and Ashnard lost interest in her. According to Almedha, you were a very small infant, even for beorc standards, and you were sickly. Ashnard hoped you would have some power when you were older, but for a time, he lost all interest in you as well. This allowed my sister to save you from him. She faked your death and sent you to live with another. Years later, you disappeared, and she thought Ashnard had found you. But confronting him only revealed that you were indeed alive. Pretending to have you in his clutches, he lured my brother, Rajaion, and a unit of Goldoan soldiers to your rescue. But it was a trap… They were all captured and poisoned into Feral Ones. Almedha went to live in exile. Ena eventually left Goldoa to try to save Rajaion… The palace became so lonely with just me and Father left.”

“You’re saying it’s my fault,” Soren said, despite himself. He didn’t feel particularly guilty. He mostly felt disbelief that he could have been the impetus behind such a horrible thing without knowing.

“Of course it’s not your fault,” Kurthnaga replied firmly. “Those were the actions of Ashnard alone.”

“Ashnard…” Soren swallowed the hated name, “So that’s it…” He stood suddenly, wanting this to end. “That’s it, right?”

“That is it.” Kurthnaga nodded. “Are you…going to be okay?”

Soren shook his head but answered in the affirmative: “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I just have to think.” He didn’t know whether it was a lie.

Kurthnaga bowed his head solemnly. “It is your decision, but…I know she would want to meet you.”

“I need to think,” Soren repeated, walking away. He felt he’d suddenly gained and lost so much in just a few brief minutes, and this left him feeling even more drained and disconnected than before.

 

Although he’d left Kurthnaga’s side, Soren still didn’t have anywhere to go or anything to do to distract himself. Naturally, his gaze fell on Ike, who was lying on the floor farther down the platform. He rolled over and adjusted his cape, obviously trying to sleep. Soren wanted to tell Ike everything; he wanted Ike to make it better. But he was still locked behind a wall of apologies Soren didn’t know how to give.

Between Soren and Ike, Micaiah and Sothe were sitting and talking to each other in quiet voices. As his gaze fell on them, he felt a sudden, urgent desire to talk to the goddess. Yune was keeping secrets; of that much, Soren was certain. Now here they were, nearing Ashera, nearing the end. Secrets were a waste of time. Everything was a waste of time and energy if they did not succeed—could not succeed. Nothing mattered if there was no leaving this tower, if the stone people stayed stone, if climbing all of these stairs was just a foolish exercise of an even more foolish hope.

“I want to talk to Yune,” he declared, interrupting whatever lovey-dovey whispers they’d been exchanging. Micaiah looked up at him in surprise Sothe glared in annoyance.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, “I can’t just call on her like that.”

“That seems unfair,” Soren shot back. “She can take your body at a moment’s notice, yet you cannot ask her a question when you want?”

“She’s resting right now,” Micaiah tried to explain, but Soren wasn’t having it.

“She rested for eight hundred years. How can she be this weak?” he spat.

“Hey!” Micaiah suddenly complained, and her eyes changed. “Say that to my face, you meanie!”

“Yune…” Soren observed, surprised that she’d actually come to meet him.

“Micaiah!” Sothe turned to her, but Yune just raised a hand to silence him. “Let me talk with this boy a moment, then you will have Micaiah back.”

Sothe growled and stomped away.

“Well?” Yune prompted, crossing her arms.

 “I want to know what your plan is,” Soren explained, confused by his own anger but running ahead with it anyway. “We’ve followed you this far. We’ve been beaten to a pulp. We’re risking everything. You owe us that much.”

Yune pursed her lips in a pout. “You know the plan: we’re going to defeat Ashera.”

“How?”

“By fighting her,” the goddess explained emphatically. “That’s why I blessed your weapons, remember?”

Soren switched to a different tact. “Why don’t you speak of restoring the petrified people anymore?” he asked, and this seemed to catch her off guard. Her proud, pouting expression disappeared. He proceeded with his attack: “Everyone is assuming that the stone people will be miraculously restored, and the world saved, if we somehow kill Ashera. But that doesn’t make sense to me. It must have taken a lot of power to petrify the whole continent. Wouldn’t it take the same amount—if not more—to undo it? Tell me, Yune, do you have that power?”

Yune stared at him, blinking.

“Do you?” Soren demanded, and tears sprang to his eyes. “And even if you do… What about the people who have shattered? What about the chaos and hysteria that will spread even if the people are restored? Do you want that to happen? Is that what you’re the goddess of?”

She still didn’t reply.

Soren growled out a final question: “Does any of this even matter?”

Finally Yune released a sad sigh. “I’m impressed… I never know what you mortals have observed or what you’re really thinking. You hide so much of what you see, and you don’t always say what’s on your mind.”

“Stop dodging the question.”

“You’re right,” she replied, and her voice was small. “My power is limited, and I don’t know what I can do. But I promise you—” her voice grew stronger again “—I will do everything I can to defeat Ashera and restore the people. All the people.”

“By ‘defeat’ you mean kill, don’t you?” Soren asked, but his anger was fading fast, taking the last of his energy with it. “But if you and she are so closely connected…can you even survive to save everyone once she is dead?”

“I don’t know,” Yune admitted. “But I will try. I promise I will try. So don’t give up on me, please! I am trying.” Sniffing, she began wiping her eyes.

Soren’s own eyes had dried. “…Fine,” he finally said, albeit reluctantly. “I will keep trying…to imagine a world and a life after this.”

Yune sniffed again. “Whatever happens…” she said, as if offering a word of advice, “Value the time you have now, with the people you love.”

 Soren’s throat closed, not allowing him to reply. But he nodded, and a moment later, Micaiah’s eyes were the ones staring at him.

She hastily dried Yune’s tears with her sleeve. “You made her cry again?” she observed in annoyance.

“She’s just a little kid,” Soren returned, finding his voice. “She cries easily.” With that, he forced his legs to trudge away. He’d wanted yelling at Yune to make him feel better. He’d wanted to eliminate his last shred of hope, thinking that would alleviate the pressure of what Kurthnaga had told him.

But his hope remained, despite his best efforts to crush it. What he’d said to Yune hadn’t been a lie. While looking for reasons to give up, he was also trying to imagine a world and a life outside of this tower. A world full of people—including a deranged mother he would have to talk to. A long life, with many years still to spend. For better or worse, these things were more appealing than dying or losing his mind.

 

“Ike, wake up,” Soren whispered, crouching beside his commander. His face looked younger when he was asleep, and so beautiful. Even the slight wrinkle between his eyebrows, betraying the fact that it wasn’t a restful sleep—even that was beautiful. “Wake up,” Soren asked again, “I need to talk to you.”

Ike’s eyes slid open, and his gaze focused. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“A lot of things,” Soren answered honestly, sitting down.

“What?” Ike propped himself up and looked around. The rest of the troops were quietly minding themselves.

 “I am sorry that I didn’t trust you could defeat Zelgius on your own,” he began in a rush, “I know how strong you are, and I know you know your own limits. I should have just had faith in you from the start, like the others.”

Ike peered at him in concern. “I don’t hold that against you,” he replied. “Anyway, you were right. You were the only one who was right… I realized it in the middle of our duel. I was giving everything I had, and so was he. I was glad to have him alone; I was glad Mist and everyone else was far away. I didn’t have to worry about being the commander. I just had to fight him and kill him. I just had to prove I was the better swordsman.” Ike crossed his arms over his knees. “That’s when I realized I wasn’t being myself. I could tell Zelgius would’ve been content to die right then, but I wouldn’t have. I still had… I still have more to live for.”

“Ike…”

“And I nearly lost it all,” he sighed, “I could have died. I could have ruined everything.”

“But you didn’t,” Soren offered, and Ike didn’t say anything more. He decided it was time for his next apology: “I am sorry I didn’t tell you about Greil and Elena a long time ago. I’m sorry I never helped you to remember. And I am sorry that I left.”

“Left?” he repeated in confusion.

“After your mother and half the town died,” Soren clarified. “You had just lost so much. I shouldn’t have left you.”

He took a deep breath. “We were just kids. You can’t be blamed for that.”

“I was going to leave the night Greil died too,” Soren admitted. 

This seemed to shock him, and Ike stared a moment. “You- you were going to leave…”

Soren shook his head hurriedly. “It was not that I didn’t think you would be a good commander. I just never felt I belonged. But then you asked me to stay. You told me you needed me. You made me feel like I could belong. I never thanked you for that.”

“Soren, I’m the one who should thank you,” Ike returned forcefully. “I’ve told you before—I could never have done any of it without you.” He suddenly adjusted the way he was sitting so he was leaning forward, and he rapidly switched his gaze from one of Soren’s eyes to the other, as if trying to read him. “What’s all of this about anyway? What’s with all of the apologies?” His frown was pulled to the side, and his blue eyes were intensely focused.

“I needed to clear the air,” Soren explained. “I needed to make everything right between us.”

“Everything’s right,” Ike replied firmly. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

“But I needed to be sure,” Soren continued, “because there is something I need to tell you. I need you to help me with it.”

Ike leaned forward even more. “Okay, shoot.”

“I know who my parents are,” Soren began, trying to keep himself from shaking, “and I need you to convince me I’m not a monster.”

“What are you sa-”

“You’re the only one who has ever made me feel better when all I could do was hate myself,” he rushed to explain. “I don’t know how you do it. But I feel like I’m losing my mind, and I-”

“Soren, Soren, just calm down,” Ike urged, seizing his shoulders. “What are you talking about? You’re okay. Just calm down.”

But he couldn’t calm down. “Ike, I was the child of Ashnard and Almedha.”

“What? How-”

“Kurthnaga told me…just now,” Soren forced the words past his lips. “Ike, for so long I was ashamed of my laguz blood, but Ashnard… It’s Ashnard. The other half is Ashnard.” He gritted his teeth angrily, not even certain what he wanted to say. “What if that is why…I’m not a good person?”

“Soren, what are you saying?” Ike squeezed his arms more tightly. “Of course you’re a good person, and that has nothing to do with whoever your parents are. That’s just you.”

“He- He was already a murderer when Almedha met him. She fell for him anyway. She’s insane,” Soren continued, finding the words were easier now. “Kurthnaga says she wants to meet me, but he might as well be mad too. And Dheginsea… The whole lot of them. It is bad blood…bad blood to have.”

“Soren.” Ike removed one hand to smooth back his hair. “Listen to me. I’ve said it before—I don’t care who you parents are. To me, you are just Soren. I always…” He moved his hand to his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “Look, you are my dearest friend. You are not a monster. You are not mad. And you are not a bad person.”

“Ike…” Soren pulled away from Ike’s fingers so he could hang his head. “I came to you because I knew you would say that. You can forgive anyone. You see the goodness in everyone. I came to you to make myself feel better…which is why I can’t believe you.”

“Shhh,” Ike hushed him. Leaning forward, he pulled Soren’s head into his chest. “You really do always make me so worried about you,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry about that too,” Soren murmured without resisting.

“Don’t be.” He felt Ike’s hand run down hair. “Don’t be sorry anymore. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I exist.”

“I am happy that you exist,” Ike replied calmly. “You’re important to me, which is why I need you to pull yourself together.”

Finally, Soren pulled away from Ike’s embrace. “What if I can’t?”

“You have to. We still have a job to do, remember?”

This wasn’t the first time Ike had said something like this; Soren had even said the same thing to Ike on more than one occasion. He tried to call upon his instinct as a mercenary: keep going, compete the job, focus until the battle’s over. But it wasn’t working, and he couldn’t pretend it was. “I can’t live for the job anymore.”

Rather than encouraging him again, Ike seemed to consider this. Then he nodded. “You’re right… We shouldn’t. None of us should. It’s like with the Black Knight—it couldn’t be the end. I had to live for something more after... There will be more for you, Soren. So you have to keep existing.”

To his surprise, Ike’s voice was a ray of clarity, and sniffing, he felt a little better. “I… I’ve been a bit of a wreck ever since we entered this tower,” he admitted. “I just don’t know if I can go on anymore. I want to give up, but I can’t.”

“…Me too,” Ike said quietly, and it wasn’t the response Soren had expected.

“What?” he demanded, his eyes darting to Ike’s. “You… But you just said-”

“I think it’s hard for all of us to keep climbing,” Ike continued, and he passed his gaze over the lethargic mercenaries. “No one knows what’s going to happen, and it’s hard to imagine everything going back to normal after all of this… But, even if it doesn’t, I try to tell myself that something good can still happen again, as long as we’re alive and keep going… I told Yune that I won’t stop until I die, and that’s the truth.”

Soren gave a quiver of a nod. “Then let’s never stop,” he proposed, “because I refuse to watch you die.”

“That’s the spirit—” Ike gave an encouraging smile, and there was a sudden twinkle in his eye “—your majesty.”

“What?” Soren shot to his feet in surprise.

Ike stood too, stretched, and cocked his head to the side. “If Ashnard is your father and Almedha your mother, I’m assuming Pelleas isn’t who everyone thinks he is. That makes you the rightful king of Daein, right?” He raised his chin and tapped it as if suddenly thinking of something. “You could probably challenge Kurthnaga’s inheritance too,” he speculated. “Which do you like more, Daein or Goldoa?”

Soren could only stare. In truth, the ramifications of his parentage hadn’t hit him until just now. “You’re being ridiculous,” he managed when he finally found his voice.

Ike laughed. “Oh no, I’m being serious—” he bowed dramatically “—your princeliness.”

Soren blushed and jabbed him in the ribs. “Shut up.”

He rubbed the spot as if it hurt. “Fine, fine,” he gave in, and his smile melted away all of Soren’s fears and doubts. It was like the sun, clearing the fog from his mind. “I’m sure you’d do a good job, though,” he offered, “for the record.”

“I have absolutely no interest in lording over others,” Soren replied flatly. But Ike’s attitude was contagious, and he gave a small smile of his own. “While I do appreciate the endorsement.”

In response, Ike clapped an arm around his shoulders and started leading him away. “Well, first thing’s first, let’s defeat this goddess and get out of this tower!” He raised his voice further: “C’mon, everyone! It’s time to get moving.” However, only those closest stirred, so Ike released him and set about shaking everyone individually.  

Soren watched him move around, offering rousing encouragement to each person. He felt a little better now, but he was utterly exhausted too. While everyone else had used this time to rest, Soren had wasted it falling apart three times over. Thanks to Ike, he’d been hastily put back together again, and he hoped it would last.