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After the quiet nights of gilded comfort in Begnion’s palace, the cry of cicadas and the humility of their tents felt like the end of a beautiful dream. Not to Soren, however, as he felt relieved of leaving that penitentiary behind him.
Nothing, absolutely nothing about Begnion pleased him. That accursed place that whenever he thought of it felt his forehead’s mark burning. He still wished he hadn’t stumbled over that book—unusual of him, wishing for ignorance, but since he found out, he couldn’t stay calm.
Even though it should be a relief to know why it seemed like the world hated him, knowing the cursed blood running through his veins gave him no respite.
If Ike were to find out…if he knew… Hurt, it hurt; his heartbeats turned so painful he couldn’t breathe as the idea of Ike’s gentle eyes looking at him filled with disgust. Soren could endure being hated by the world, by the Goddess herself, but no Ike. If Ike were to hate me… He could only let that idea hang there, unfinished, unable to even think it, unwilling to think of it.
Without Ike, he was nobody.
Even if it means betraying him. His mouth felt bitter, remembering Nasir smug attitude, that traitorous rat. Yet he let him be, he let him stole the medallion and stayed silent. As long as Ike didn’t know his secret, Soren betrayed his own morals and integrity.
Without Ike, his life held no meaning.
No matter what, Soren had to keep his secret, nobody could know, Ike shouldn’t know. As long as he could remain by Ike’s side, only to remain by his side…
But for how long…? Soren had known for a while he started to grow slower than Ike and Boyd despite being their age—at least what he believed to be his age—, his face didn’t harden in that of a man and remained boyish, he stopped growing tall, his voice didn’t have its breakout. Until that fatidic day in Mainal Cathedral, he thought it was just the malnutrition of his childhood manifesting. But it wasn’t, it wasn’t that at all. Soren had wished it had been that instead.
Soren bit down his lip so hard it drew blood. His blood, that tainted blood that had cursed him.
When will Ike notice I remain youthful, would he find it disgusting? Soren always thought of everything, and he knew sooner or later people would suspect the fact he didn’t seem to leave puberty behind, that he stayed stagnant in time. And his stomach churned painfully to what that meant. When that happens, I won’t be able to remain by Ike’s side.
Even if he wasn’t told Soren was branded, Ike would notice something was wrong with him.
If he had to leave Ike’s side…he would have rather died back then in Gallia, before knowing of his warmth.
Soren tried to keep those thoughts as bay as he walked around the camp at night, far away from it but close enough that he could see the faint lights of their encampment.
Soren frowned as his path was cut by that man, making him stop. Hand lazily hanging by the handle of his sword as he walked with seemingly no care despite the sharpness of his eyes.
Soren felt repulsion at himself, at how he could feel him coming. That beastly blood manifesting in if he was a beast himself. He would rather be accosted by brigands.
He observed him with wariness; hand pressed against the satchel holding his Elwind tome. Logically, he knew Stefan wasn’t his enemy, yet to him he felt like it—because he knew what he was and haunted him with it.
The fact he had started to tutor Ike over the sword had Soren trembling with anxiety. What if he crossed him? What if he told Ike the truth when he wasn’t looking? That idea terrified him so much that Soren started to join their sessions as an observed just to monitor what Stefan said.
If he tells Ike, then my betrayal won’t mean anything. Since he had found out the truth coursing trough his veins, Soren hadn’t had a day of rest, every minute of the day and even in his sleep, he was worrying over it, over what would happen, over the worst-case scenario.
Soren was angry, tired and done with this branded issue. He didn’t need some sand man to be another enemy in his board; he needed him gone. He was a menace to his stay by Ike’s side.
Anyone who would get between him and Ike was his enemy, and he would deal with it.
To remain by his side, I’ll do anything. Anything. Soren clenched his fists until his palms hurt as his nails dug in.
Soren knew he was being illogical, almost insane, but he was so near collapsing that any common sense had left him.
“If you’re here to give more unwanted advice, you can take it and-” Soren spoke first, his voice harsh and hushed, but his words were cut short by Stefan’s poignant tone.
He stared at him with that cryptic look that Soren was unable to read.
“I’ll be short.”
Soren clenched his jaw as another headache started to send pangs of pain inside him. He was so tired of them, but the lack of sleep with which he was running on made them an everyday occurrence.
“Didn’t ask, don’t care; go away.” He brusquely said, starting to walk past Stefan, but he swiftly grabbed him by the shoulder. Being bigger and physically stronger than Soren, he had no problem holding him in place, forcing him to stay.
“You and Ike seem awfully close.” Stefan suddenly said, startling Soren enough to make him look back at him with wide eyes filled with fear.
I knew it. He’s just like Nasir, like that traitor. Soren felt his stomach grow cold as his fears materialized. Stefan was dangerous as he had thought. In the end, nobody but Ike was trustworthy.
And that was why he had to keep his secret from him. That was why he couldn’t know.
If Ike knows, even he…
“That’s none of your business.” He snapped, looking at him over his shoulder.
Soren knew he couldn’t hold back the terror in his face in that moment, worried sick over the idea of Stefan outing him to Ike for his twisted pleasure.
But there was no satisfaction nor wickedness in his eyes. Instead, his dark eyes looked at Soren with sadness.
Soren was unable to understand why Stefan would care for him, why anybody would care for him.
Stefan remained in silence for what felt an eternity, and Soren who was in the last end of his composure, held his breath all the while. They remained still in that awkward position, side by side, with the swordman grabbing him by the shoulder.
And Soren gasped loudly as Stefan’s words deafened his ears.
“No matter what you do, don’t fall in love with him.”
Soren tried to answer, to say anything, to deny it, to tell him he was marginating things, that his loyalty to Ike was merely platonic. That he was insane to think such thing could happen.
We’re only friends. I merely work for him. We’re both men to boot. There is no way…
“I’m not…” He tried to deny it, but his throat was too dry to spew those words. He was unable to say those words.
With this wicked body, I’m unable to love him…! Just like in the cathedral, just like in that day, that intrusive thought full of self-hatred flared as Soren tried to cover his ears to the truth. All inside of him hurt, it burnt and tore apart as that truth thundered down him, tearing him apart from the inside out. If only denial was enough to destroy those feelings. If only these feelings were so weak as that he could purge them.
If only he could stop loving Ike.
Soren palled and looked at the ground, away from Stefan who might as well had ripped his heart off his chest, crushing it with his hands. He felt faint, he felt nauseous, he felt his legs trembling as well as the rest of his body.
If those words weren’t told, then they might as well don’t exist. If he denied his heart, then he could continue on living. That was what he told himself, that was the poison he was drinking in hopes he could destroy the hopes inside him.
No matter how much he climbed on the hopes of remaining by Ike’s side, even if he didn’t remember him, even if he never loved him the way he wanted—Soren knew it was hopeless.
Soren didn’t care for others; he had given any hope as a child. But Ike…if someone could love him, if only one person, if only Ike could love him despite all the ugliness inside him, he’d need nothing else.
However, if Ike knew the ugly truth of him, then…
But if the opposite of love was hatred…
If Ike hated me, I’d rather die.
Suddenly, his vision turned blurry.
“If you fall in love with him, you will suffer greatly.” Stefan said, this time his voice turning softer, almost regretful. He squeezed his shoulder before letting it go in an empty gesture of comfort—there was nothing in the world that could comfort Soren. “Heed my words. Only this warning if you must.”
As Stefan’s words echoed in his head and his steps started to go further and further away, Soren stood there, silently, his eyes staring blankly at the nothingness.
Silently, the tears streaming down his face fell down into the ground.