Mother, You Were Never There

[royaltyjunk]

Summary:

It’s well before dawn and slightly after midnight when he leaves the wooden house they’ve built up in the mountains of Daein. Written for the FE: Community Design event on Tumblr.

Author’s Ideas: ¼ of my birthday gifts to you guys.

Yeah, my birthday is today, and what better way to celebrate than give you guys four fics all on the same day? Thank you for all your support so far!

The June theme for fe-communitydesign was “invisible”, so I awakened my inner Tellius spirits and decided to write a bit about Almedha and Soren’s relationship. Also background Ike/Soren. And angst. Because I can. 

Disclaimer: I still don’t own Fire Emblem.

~ / . / . / ~

Mother, You Were Never There

~ / . / . / ~

It’s well before dawn and slightly after midnight when he leaves the wooden house they’ve built up in the mountains of Daein.

It’s a rugged little cottage, built from the ground up with logs and used tomes that stuff any holes in the walls or roof. They’d lived a happy and isolated life there after coming back from their ten year journey. Sure, it was shabby, and it failed them. A lot. Soren could count the number of times it had withstood any form of rain with one hand.

Still, it was their house, and he closes the door gently, his fingers lingering on the rusty brass doorknob. He scoffs at himself and jerks his hand away.

He remembers the bottle of ashes in his pocket and gently puts a hand to the wooden door, like he’s feeling for something - a heartbeat, a movement, anything to signify Ike.

The house doesn’t give him a response, and he feels foolish for expecting one.

Moonlight slips around the form of the rugged house he’s so familiar with, lighting a sliver of his face. He brings the bottle of ashes up to the light, lining it up with the white shimmer of the moonlight.

There’s something invisible in the bottle and in the house, but Soren doesn’t need to think to know who it is.

From somewhere, he feels a pair of invisible red eyes watching him. He turns his back to the shining moon and lets the scratching of his blood, his laguz and beorc blood, guide him down the mountain and to his next destination.

~ / . / . / ~

“Welcome,” Kurthnaga smiles at him. Soren gives him a tense half-smile back.

“Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Of course. The Gouldians are accepting of anyone.”

Soren opens his mouth to respond, but thinks better of it, choosing not to respond about the villagers that shut doors in his face and refused to give him food or shelter upon gleaning the brand on his forehead.

“Ena will show you the way to your room,” Kurthnaga beckons forward the pink-haired woman, who smiles at Soren.

“Well met, Sir Soren.”

“Hello again,” he says gruffly as he shifts his feet, impatiently waiting for his guide to take him to his room. Ena gets the hint stored in his voice and beckons him forward, leading him out of the throne room. Soren follows her down the hallway and up a winding stairway. She takes a left and then a right, and stops in front of a large set of double doors.

“This will be your room during your stay in Goldoa. Should you need anything, my room is down the hallway at those golden doors,” she gestures to the end of the stretching path, and Soren catches a glimpse of shimmering doors, “and several maids live in the room over there.”

Ena leads him to a room diagonal from his own, and knocks gently.

Three maids bustle out, their eyes bright and gentle.

“Lady Ena!”

Ena motions Soren to step forward, and he does, trying to ignore the flinch that ripples through all three of them.

“This is Sir Soren. He will be staying Goldoa for an extended period of time, and you three will be expected to attend to him through his stay.”

“Yes, Lady Ena!” They bow and turn to Soren, expecting orders. He shakes his head.

“I don’t have anything you need to tend to right now.”

They seem shocked, but nod tentatively and retreat back into their room. The door closes behind Soren as he turns away and heads back down the hallway to his room. Ena follows him, keeping pace with the dark green-haired man.

“You can leave me alone. I’m not planning on doing anything else.”

“If you’re not, then how about I show you around? We could talk to Grandfather, or-” Ena cuts herself off, and Soren senses realization and shock rippling through her.

“Or what?” He demands. “What were you going to say?”

She pauses, and then shakes her head. “I’ll take you to King Kurthnaga. He can - will - explain.”

Soren narrows his eyes at Ena’s correction mid-sentence, but doesn’t inquire further, instead letting Ena bring him through the twisting hallways he’s already sick of. The sound of their footsteps echo through the large and lofty castle as they descend down the staircase in quick steps.

“King Kurthnaga should be in his chambers,” Ena explains when they suddenly turn away from the throne room, and Soren opens his mouth to speak up. “He prefers to stay there unless there are visitors that he must attend to.”

Soren nods before narrowing his eyes. “What is all this about? Why have the king tell me when you are perfectly aware of this… secret, as I might say?”

Ena pauses, and then turns her head back to Soren.

“It’s about your mother.”

The world goes dark for a second. He stumbles, and bumps his head against the wall where they’re supposed to turn the corner. Ena reaches out to steady him, and unconsciously, he lashes out at her, glaring.

“Leave me alone. I am fine.” He can’t keep the hatred from seeping out of his lips and tainting his words, and Ena glances at him before understanding flowers in her eyes, and she withdraws her hand.

“My apologies. Although… I’m sure you have figured it out, have you not?”

“My mother was that woman… that woman who called out to me after we left the Tower of Guidance.”

“Correct,” Kurthnaga’s voice rises from the other end of the hallway, and Soren looks up, fixing the dragon king with an icy glare. Kurthnaga ignores the frosty look he receives and smiles warmly. “She is your mother.”

“How long have you know?” Soren growls.

“She realized when you went into the Tower of Guidance. It was her first time being near you, and so she could sense that you were Branded. It is natural for a laguz to sense their child if they are close enough. She told me after the battle, when we returned from fighting Ashera. You remember her calling out to you, do you not?”

Soren just scoffs and rolls his eyes. “And what if she did?”

“Do you not care about her?” Ena’s words are cautiously chosen, and they slip out of her tentatively. Kurthnaga jerks his gaze towards her, shock widening his eyes.

“Of course not. She wasn’t there for me. Why should I?” Soren curls his lip, a look like hatred firmly settled on his brow. The king glances at Soren tentatively before turning his eyes to the floor.

“But… Almedha is your mother. Without her…”

“Almedha? Is that her name?”

“Yes. She is my sister.”

Soren’s eyes darken. “She is Goldoan royalty?”

“Yes,” Kurthnaga murmurs softly, and then lifts his gaze from his shoes to Soren’s deep crimson eyes, “meaning you are Goldoan royalty as well.”

“Kuh…” He feels a prick in his chest, a burning pain that consumes him, and he realizes that what he feared most is reality; that he’s something he doesn’t want to be, he’s something he never wanted to be because of a woman he never cared about. His jaw clenches, and his fingers curl into a claw-like shape, nails digging into the wall.

“I am sorry, Soren,” Ena apologizes softly. “I could not bring myself to tell you.”

“I would have preferred it if you hadn’t told me,” Soren snaps back, and Ena flinches, her eyes flickering at Kurthnaga, who stands silent amidst Soren’s rebukes and harsh words. The dragon king has his eyes closed, and his nephew snarled at him.

“I’m leaving.”

“You have nowhere to return to.”

Kurthnaga’s words stop Soren from turning and dashing away, and he tries to form a coherent response.

“I don’t-”

“Brother?” 

A strangely familiar voice rings about the hallway, and Soren feels a chill run down his spine. There’s only one other person who could call Kurthnaga their brother, and he prays to the goddess above that it isn’t her, that it isn’t the woman he doesn’t want to talk to right now, that-

“Almedha? What are you doing here?”

He condemns the goddess to hell.

“Brother, there you are. I was looking for you.” The sound of footsteps draw nearer, and Soren tenses up. They scrape to a stop beside him, and he pointedly turns his head away from her.

“Soren…” Ena murmurs from the other side of him. He just responds with a scoff.

“Did something happen, Almedha?”

“No, I was just wondering if you had…” She trails off, but Kurthnaga seems to understand and nods.

“He knows.”

“I know,” Soren chimes in bitterly. “I know, and I wish I didn’t.”

Almedha steps in front of him, her hands folded together and lips pursed. “Soren, I am so very sorry, but… I had to do it. I did not mean to-”

“Fine then,” Soren spits with anger, “I never cared about you anyways. You, who left me to die with no remorse. You’re no worse than a cold-blooded killer.”

He barges past the woman who is neither laguz or beorc, and doesn’t spare a glance over his shoulder because she’s invisible.

She doesn’t exist, to him.

~ / . / . / ~

“He looks like her, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah… I’m surprised. Plus, the way he’s treated here in the castle makes it seem like he’s-”

“No, he couldn’t possibly be!”

“But the Lady Almedha has never transformed before, has she?”

“I suppose-”

“Now is not a time of war. There is no need to.”

“L-Lady Ena!”

“Go on. You have chores and such to attend to, do you not? And next time, when you start slandering someone, try to find a place where they can’t listen in.”

The group of gossiping maids scatter as they rush off with flush faces, and Ena watches them disappear before sighing and turning to Soren.

“That has to be the first time they’ve done it in the presence of a guest. I’m sorry about that.”

“I’ve been here for a year. Naturally, they’d think I’d be used to things around here.”

“Are you?”

“Of course,” Soren responds, narrowing his eyes. He knows that Ena takes two walks a day, once in the afternoon and once at sunset. He knows that the servants all gossip when they clean rooms or have meals. He knows the royal chef keeps multiple bottles of poison in the cabinets above the knives, confiscated from all the other kitchen workers when they’d first come to work in the castle. He knows that Nasir keeps a Laguz Gem pinned to his scarf. He knows that Gareth, Ena’s son’s chamberlain, dotes on him when no one is around. He knows that King Kurthnaga often has nightmares, and stays up under candlelight reading old stories of his father.

All that he does not know about is connected to his mo- to Lady Almedha. He has no interest in her, and know that she would not dare do anything harmful to him, and so he does not bother to observe her daily routine.

“Soren? Did you hear me?”

“No. What did you want?”

“King Kurthnaga wishes to meet with you. Come with me.”

Begrudgingly, he closes the door to his room behind him and follows the red dragon.

The door to the throne room is pushed open, and Kurthnaga glances up from the papers in his hands. He offers them a smile and stands.

“Soren, thank you for coming.”

“It was a call from you. I had to.” Soren brushes off the king’s thanks, and Kurthnaga nods, before waving his hand at Ena. The pink-haired woman bows and leaves the room. Kurthnaga approaches Soren then.

“People have been spreading rumors about you, Soren.”

“So?” An annoyed look flits across Soren’s face, and Kurthnaga shakes his head.

“Some citizens have gotten wind of your being here. We know your presence here is supposed to be concealed, but some maids and butlers who are suspicious of you have begun spreading rumors of you. So, please. All we’re asking you to do is be more interactive, Soren. Perhaps greet some guests, or be more willing to come to feasts. Try a little more, for your sake if not for ours. That is all I wanted to say. You are excused,” Kurthnaga smiles, and retreats deeper into the throne room.

Almedha steps forward from her place beside the throne then, and clears her throat before speaking up.

“Soren-”

“Lady Almedha, I am quite busy. If you will excuse me,” he interrupts, turning around and leaving the room.

Nasir catches up to him as he ascends the stairway one step at a time.

“What was that?”

“What?” Soren’s voice is cold and harsh, a clear sign that he didn’t want to talk. He walks faster, taking two steps at a time. Nasir keeps up.

“She’s your mother. You can’t just ignore her. She’ll be here for another handful of centuries, and you will too.”

Soren stops and turns on him. “Nasir. I-”

The sound of footsteps cut him off, and Almedha runs by the base of the staircase. Ena chases her, but stops and looks up the stairway.

Soren meets her gaze with a glare, and sadness tints the red dragon’s eyes as she dashes away, following Almedha.

He looks back at Nasir. “She was invisible. She was never there. Am I supposed to love a woman who never did anything for me?”

Nasir purses his lips and Soren turns abruptly, continuing up the winding staircase as he ignores the churning feelings in his heart.

~ / . / . / ~

The queen of Daein dies to a sudden illness sometime during his fifth year in Goldoa, his one hundred and third year alive in total, and her ninety-ninth year alive.

She comes to Goldoa two days later, a black cape on her shoulders and a maid’s towel wrapped around her head.

“You needn’t prepare a room for me,” she laughs and waves off the group of servants, who rush forward to help the former queen. “Micah made sure that I had more than enough before I left.”

“That’s a nice son you have,” Nasir comments, and Micaiah lets out another bubbly giggle.

“He’s worried that I can’t handle myself. He forgets sometimes that I’ll be living for another thousand years or so.”

“Where will you be going from here on out?” Soren questions. “It will be hard for you to stay in Tellius without the cooperation of a kingdom.”

“I will be staying in the Kingdom of Serenes, under concealment, alongside Lehran. You are welcome to come visit me if you wish.”

“I will,” Nasir promises, and then gestures to Soren. “Soren, why don’t you show her to the sunroom? She can stay there until King Kurthnaga is available.”

He rolls his eyes but turns to lead the former queen of Daein to the sunroom located at the end of the hallway where his and Ena’s rooms are. The bright golden doors reflect back at them, and he pushes them open.

Sunlight spills through the large windows of the room, falling over the tables and chairs settled on the patterned carpet along the hardwood floor. He glances at the white-haired woman, who walks to the window and places her hand on the glass.

“It’s beautiful…”

“Wait here until someone comes to get you,” Soren commands, and with a glance over his shoulder, turns to leave the room.

“Alright,” she says, and then gasps and spins around.

“Oh, Soren! I heard about… your mother, and-”

Soren turns his head to glare at her, and Micaiah’s voice trails off. She clenches her hand against her chest, a forlorn look in her eyes.

“I see… so you’re…”

“I don’t care about her. That’s all.” Soren turns to leave.

“And why not? At this point, the one at fault here is you, Soren. She must be overjoyed to meet with her son, and is instead greeted by harshness and anger?”

Soren whips around to address Micaiah.

“Even if she is my mother, it does not change the fact that she is the one at fault. I’ve no desire to be her son, to be doted on,” Soren spat out the words like poison on his lips. “You saw what happened to Pelleas, how she treated him. How she would have willingly sacrificed a kingdom - her former kingdom - to save the life of one person!”

“Have you forgotten how you once acted?”

The cold reply in her warm voice stops him from speaking up.

“You once would have given everything and anything to ensure Ike’s survival.”

Soren stutters, his mind searching for an answer. “Ike is… different.”

“In what way?” Micaiah asks, tilting her head.

“He helped me. He was my friend, and he liked me. He loved me, something I’ve never felt before. He was willing to give up everything to protect me, just as I was.”

“And you think mothers don’t do that?” Micaiah’s eyes blaze with an emotion best described as fury, although it doesn’t fit the gentle-hearted woman she is. “Do you think we don’t love our children until they’ve grown up? Do you think we despise the infants we hold in our arms? Do you think that all mothers will abandon their children eventually? Is your view on a mother shaped only by what you think? Were you too stubborn to open your eyes and look around? At Ena, at Mist, at anyone who was a mother, including myself?”

Soren gives her silence. She sighs and then speaks again, the passion and anger in her voice subsiding. “We love our children. It is a mother’s duty to do so, and it was your mother’s duty as well.” Her eyes soften. “You cannot act like she is invisible, Soren.”

He tries to snarl back, tries to get a retort out of his mouth, but it disappears at the tip of his tongue, and he just storms out of the sunroom, leaving Micaiah to watch him disappear into the castle hallways with an understanding look in her eyes.

~ / . / . / ~

The month of the General, the twenty-third day.

The day Ike had died, exactly twenty five years ago.

The day he had come to Goldoa, six years ago.

The day he talks to his mother for the first time since arriving in Goldoa, twenty four years ago.

“Happy birthday, Soren. Is that one hundred and four now?”

Soren brushes off the king’s words with a roll of his eyes. “Birthday this, birthday that. I could care less about it. It’s just a gruesome reminder that I have a thousand more years of my life left to live out.”

Kurthnaga smiles understandingly, and lays a gentle hand on Soren’s shoulder before retreating from the quiet library.

The silence leaves the former tactician alone to his thoughts - foreboding thoughts that soon consume his mind. He’s not needed, he doesn’t belong in this world no matter how hard he tries. He should just disappear, he should just leave. Ike never loved him, Ike never wanted him. He was just clingy, and Ike was compassionate, his mother abandoned him out of hatred, his father hated him, everyone hated him especially Ike because he was never needed never wanted never required never-

Soren shuts down that part of his mind and stands abruptly. The deep green-haired tactician growls, slams the book in his hands shut, and leaves the library behind, not bothering to fix the fallen chair that he once sat in.

Taking the long winding staircase up to his room, he skips several steps at a time despite the taxing effort it takes to climb the entire thing. Just as he rounds the corner, a chill runs down his spine, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. He curses and walks quicker. His laguz instincts have reacted too much to the same person that it’s hard for him not to want to run away.

“Soren! Wait!”

He tries not to hiss as he jerks to a stop, and clenches his fingers tight around the book in his hands as the footsteps draw closer.

Almedha takes softer steps the closer she gets to her son, and Soren glances at her from the side of his vision. She comes at his right and gives him a smile, although, for all the work and analyzation of people he’s done, he doesn’t know if it’s genuine or not.

“What do you want?” He asks, continuing to walk down the hallway to his room.

“Oh… I just…” Almedha glances around nervously, and Soren scoffs.

“Did you really think I would let you talk to me without a reason? If you’re here for idle chatter or some ‘mother and son bonding’ thing, I’m leaving.”

“No, I… Today is your birthday, is it not?”

“I’ve been here for six years, and you don’t remember.” Soren snorts. “So? What of it?”

“It’s… It’s not your real birthday, my dear. You were-”

“I know it’s not my real birthday. I don’t care about it. It just serves as a reminder to the day that I was born into this miserable world by you.” He ignores her flinch, and continues talking. “I wouldn’t want to celebrate any birthday for me. But today is the day Ike gave me a birthday, so I will celebrate today. Today and only today.”

Almedha stares, wide-eyed at Soren, and then looks away guiltily. “I’m sorry, my son… I did not mean to offend you.”

Soren stops and turns to look at her suddenly, his eyes cold and angry.

“I may be your son biologically, but you will never be my mother. So stop calling me those names, because I will never accept you. Never.”

Almedha lets out a gentle sigh, an understanding expression flitting across her face.

“So… I am dead to you?”

“You are not dead to me.” Almedha looks up in surprise, and Soren continues on, “But you are invisible. You do not exist to me. Lady Almedha is alive, but my mother is not.”

He turns on his heel and enters his room, leaving the hallway in a cold and stunning silence. Almedha falls back against the wall, her face in her hands and fingers clenching around her head, long fingernails digging into her scalp. There’s a sensation like hot coals, burning her heart, and she pretends to not acknowledge it, even though she knows it’s the feeling of her heart breaking.

Soren slams the door to his room behind him and crumples to his feet, his fingers combing frantically through his dark green hair. There’s no regret or remorse in his heart, but he feels anguish rising from his lungs and into his throat, and he bites his lip to hold back a scream, feeling the stabbing sensation of pain grow. He watches as crimson blood slips from his lip and beads onto the floor beneath him.

They never speak to each other again.