Pairing: See above statement
Fandom: Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance
Sometimes Reyson believed his greatest strength was his ultimate weakness. When he gave others strength, he felt he lost a bit of his own. When his allies could move forward, Reyson watched their retreating backs. Sometimes, the others would be fighting the battle, fighting with their lives while, he waited, like a dutiful maiden who sews the battered clothes once they’re done. Even priests have more use on the battlefield.
He watched his friends (beorc or otherwise, it was harder to deny the bond that was slowly tightening) on the battlefield. Soren’s concentration is deeply etched on his face as he weaves the wind spell with his hands. Mia deftly holds the sword in both her hands, moves like a blur. Reyson could hear the deafening snarls from Lethe and Mordecai and watched as Marcia and Jill plucked enemy soldiers from the sky. Rhys, surrounded by a golden aura is subtly removing enemies from the field. And Reyson watches from the sidelines, either guarded or told to go somewhere safe. He hated it.
He particularly liked watching Ike fight. His moves were more….natural. The way he slashed and cut someone seemed almost poetic in a way. The sword moved like it was a living thing, twisting and turning. Reyson was never particularly fond of bloodshed on any kind, but he watched anyway. It was the only thing he was able to do.
“I’m sorry Reyson,” Tibarn said before flying away to lead the attack on the Fort. Reyson watched him as Tibarn’s form slowly vanished into the sky. He felt his knees sink into the ground, his wings brushing the grass slightly. Why couldn’t he take wing? Take wing and fly away with Tibarn? And for the love of Ashera, do something about the kidnapping of his sister?!
You could only protect yourself that night. That’s all you’ll ever be capable of.
Reyson remembered when the people of Begnion decided to burn their home on a whim. It was night, yet when he woke up, the sky was so bright that it felt like morning. It was then he opened his eyes and saw his people’s perches and nests burn. He felt the ash in his mouth as he woke up his father. His sisters had vanished and he cried his voice hoarse. Then the flames were upon him, smothering him. His father managed to pull him out of the pyre. Afterwards, his father fell sick and he…he was painfully alone.
Coughing, he tried to take wing, but he couldn’t even breathe. Where were they? His sisters had gone. Had they taken wing already? Had they left him behind? He could hear the screeching of his people, their death-screams echoing in his ears. And suddenly, he didn’t want to wait for his sisters. He wanted to escape… he wanted to get out of his home.
Most of all, he wanted to live.
“Reyson,” Ike said, stepping up behind him, “It’s not a good night for you to be outside.”
He said nothing. Ike sat down next to him. Tibarn had vanished completely. Even the stars had left with him. Reyson ignored Ike quietly. Ike put his sword down next to him and idly traced the edge with his finger. He winced as he accidentally cut his finger and sucked his finger lightly.
“Give me your hand,” Reyson said suddenly, causing Ike to jolt slightly. Ike gave him his hand without hesitation. Reyson paused, touching the small wound gently and closed his eyes. A pale white light surrounded his body and circled the wound. It closed gently. There was no sign of scarring.
“Thank you,” Ike said gently, “It’s quite a shame it doesn’t work both ways.”
Reyson shook his head and said nothing. His wings felt cold and Reyson could feel the chill seep into his clothes. Ike waited there patiently.
“…I hate you,” Reyson said sometimes. Ike blinked in puzzlement. Reyson continued, “I hate you because I look at you and I…I’m helpless. I should have never come here. What use am I on the battlefield?”
Ike sighed, “Didn’t we have this discussion earlier?”
“Yet, I still feel useless!” Reyson said, standing up, “Nothing I can do is ever helpful and all I do is hope all of you come back alive!”
“This is war Reyson,” Ike said grimly, picking up his sword and sheathing it, “Isn’t being alive something to be happy about?”
“Like you can talk!” Reyson said, knowing his temper was getting the better of him, “Are you going to come back alive after you see the Dark Knight?”
Ike reeled back slightly, stunned. Reyson realized what he had just said and looked away in shame. They avoided eye contact. Ike’s hands drifted back to his sword for comfort. Reyson saw the movement and closed his eyes in pain.
“I don’t know,” And Reyson could hear the vulnerability of Ike’s spirit, “I won’t let him get away. That much I know I must do.”
Reyson gripped his own forearms tightly. He had suspected that Ike would say that. He knew that Ike believed his chances of coming back were grim. Yet, it hurt much more to hear him actually say it.
“…I am—I was glad that when the Dark Knight retreated that night, that I was alive. Then I felt sick because my father was bleeding to death on the ground,” Ike said, his fingers strumming the sword, “All I could of then was saving my father.”
Reyson felt his eyes burn.
“So then,” And Ike’s eyes turn to Reyson questioningly, “Is it my fault my father died?”
“No,” whispered Reyson, “No, I-I—no, you’re not.”
Ike stared at Reyson quietly and said, “We should go inside. It’s cold tonight.”
“Yes,” Reyson said, his wings quivering. He watched Ike walk back into the tents and realized that battles on the field and in the camp were the same. He still watched people walk away without being able to do anything.
Reyson felt like crying for the first time in twenty years.
Plot bunnies are churning...yes...