Yo! Thought I disappeared huh? Not a chance! I just got sucked into the time hole that is college HW. Blargh! But I've crawled my way back to finish up this little collection of one-shots I'll call 'The To Be Arc'. Pretty proud of myself, ni! So, let's get this started!

Category: Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn or FE 10.

Main Characters: Sothe, Tormod, Muarim, Vika, and a little bit of Micaiah

Pairings: Sothe/Micaiah, onesided Tormod/Sothe, implied Muarim/Vika

Summary: Sothe and Tormod find themselves starting new beginnings. Without each other. Bit of Yaoi. Teeny-tiny. Like non-existent. Squint really hard and you might see it. Sothe/Micaiah, onesided Tormod/Sothe, implied Muarim/Vika.

Disclaimer. Don't own Fire Emblem.


To Be Broken

Tormod leafed through his Tome, consisting of mostly wind based spells. He knew a few, but wanted to acquire more. Soren had given the fiery mage a few of his older ones without a second thought. The desert mage had been surprised to say the least, at how a few years could change the sour, silent, mage. Okay, so he hadn't changed too much. Maybe a minuscule change.

Eyes skimming the ancient letters, he didn't even hear the door open. Nor the soft sound of boots against the carpet. His lips forming the words, but not dare saying them (least he summon a tornado and rip apart the castle). Tormod continued to read, blissfully unaware of the figure, now standing behind him.

"Tormod."

"Gah!!" the red head shouted, leaping from the chair, ready to slam the thick book into whoever it was only to stop in mid swing.

Sothe chuckled softly at his friend's reaction, not at the least bit threatened. Tormod shot him a glare, lowing the weapon, "Damn it Sothe...Don't do that!"

"It's not like you would've hurt me, let alone hit me with that." The rouge replied. "It would've been smarter to begin casting a spell."

The shorter of the two, shook his head smirking, "You may excel as the thief my dear friend, but as a mage you would fail. You're too close. Even if I did cast a spell, the distance is too small and I would only cause damage to myself."

A single green eyebrow rose, as the emerald haired teen mulled over the words. Finally, he crossed his arms, sighing. A silent action that the mage knew well. Sothe had just admitted defeat. Tormod just smiled all the brighter, mentally doing a dance. "So, ready to explain why you invited me to Daien?"

For the past week, Tormod (along with his two faithful laguz friends) had been occupying three rooms in Daein's Keep by Sothe's request. Micaiah's inauguration would take place soon, and while it was a historic moment for Daien, Tormod was less then enthusiastic. It wasn't that he wasn't thrilled for his friend's country, on the contrary. It was the lack of care for the inauguration part. Long speeches, too many people, Lord and Ladies. He could see them all in the not too distant future, as well as tedious actions to stay awake, maneuver around bodies, and avoid pompous upper class. Even with Daien having been almost brought to ruin by Begnion's reign, it didn't take long for the noblemen and women to take their 'rightful' places again.

The rouge circled around the chair, standing next to it instead and its identical cousins that encompassed a part of the room. The guest room was lavishly decorated with both Begnion and Daein decor. The process of removing and replacing was still in progress as the Begnion soldiers had pilfered and disposed of Daein's colors and articles in favor of their own country. Not to mention it was just another act to rub it in the faces of the snowy countries citizens that they were under their control. Colors of red and black, clashed with those of blue and white, which Sothe grimaced at. The bed sat opposite of the small reading area that was situated in front of the built in fire place. A large desk sat in one of the corners, while a door occupied the other corner. It lead to an equally, richly decorated wash room. Planted in the middle of the wall was a large window, its heavy curtains drawn back to let in the late afternoon light. And opposite of the glass wall was the embellished double door, which the rouge had his back to.

"Never been to one," the taller began. "But Nolan says it's customary to have one. Micaiah's already chosen her's."

"Sothe...what the hell are you talking about?" The desert mage asked, throughly confused. There was also an un-mistakable sense of unease.

"I guess there's no other way to say it....Tormod. Will you be my best man?"

"...eh...?"

"Nolan says that for a proper ceremony, the man has a 'best man'. Someone they trust and would like to be a part of the ceremony. Or at least that's how he explained in it, in simple terms." Sothe replied.

"Ceremony? Best man? What are you talking about? What's this for?" That same sense of malaise grew and a pit formed somewhere in him, as he clenched the Tome tighter. Tormod felt his mind fly as attempted to grasp what his friend was saying.

The emerald haired teen blinked. "For? Tormod. I'm getting married."

"M-m-married?!"

"Yes. Micaiah...will be my wife in four days."

"Four days!? Isn't that-"

"Yes. It's also the day of the inauguration." Sothe gazed at his friend carefully. The tense shoulders, death grip upon the leather bound book, accelerated blinking. He recognized the three unconscious actions. They usually implied rapid thought process, he had seen it in battle during Crimea's war.

What happened next was unexpected.

The mage flipped open the book, confused by the actions the rouge just simply let the wind attack send him flying out of the room right before it also closed the double doors. He slammed into the small decorative table, housing a delicate vase of winter flowers, all crumbling by the sheer weight and force. Sothe groaned, knowing that he his back would be sore, and pushed himself from the ground. His ears, having been honed since childhood, picked up the sound of a soft click. Meaning Tormod had locked the door.

For once, Sothe felt anger rush in his veins. "Tormod!" What the hell just happened? He asked himself. Never had the red haired teen use such forceful ways on him. If he was bothering him (which rarely occurred, after all, the thief knew when he was occupied), Tormod would usually just out right and saw it. Tactics had never been a strong point. Straight to the point, a quality he shared with Soren on a much smaller scale.

"Tormod! Open the door!"

Receiving no answer only fueled his anger. "Tormod!!" He then slammed a fist against the polished wood. "Damn it! Open!!" His other hand furiously clasped the door knob and he cursed whoever thought it would be a good idea to construct one way locks. If only there was a lock on the outside as well, then he could simply pick it and confront the mage as to what was wrong. A few more minutes of pounding on the door, before he heard a voice beside him.

"Sir Sothe?"

The rouge paused in his abuse to the barrier, to see Muarim standing before him. Wrapped up in his thoughts and emotions he didn't even reprimand the laguz for the title on his name. "Muarim! Maybe you can help."

Noticing whose door they were by, immediate concern flashed in his eyes. "Is something wrong with Tormod?"

"He locked himself inside." The rouge replied, carefully choosing his words. He didn't want the laguz to blame him for the mage's actions. He already knew it was partially (if not all) his fault that Tormod was in this state. Whatever state he was in. Muarim frowned, turning to stare at the door. A single step, and he stood before the wooden blockade. Rapping his knuckles against it the green laguz called out, "Little One. What is the matter?"

Sothe barely heard the laguz's name from the other side of the door. Tormod had replied to his foster father, but in a voice hardly above a whisper.

"Open the door, Tormod." There was a bit of authority within his voice, but it also held concern and worry. Muarim wanted to see the young beorc and comfort him both verbally and physically. "Please, Little One."

The soon to be King stepped forward to catch the mage's words.

"Is Sothe there?"

The laguz glanced at his outside companion, but the rouge refused to meet his dark green eyes. Turning back to the door he answered affirmatively.

"No. I won't open unless he promises not to come in."

Again, Muarim looked towards the other for an answer, explanation, even a clue as to what had transpired to cause such an event. Sothe merely pressed his lips in a thin line, his mind working.

Promise not to come in?! What in Ashunera was going on!? He eventually stepped away from the door, knowing that the green laguz needed an answer. Muarim returned to the door, pronouncing that the rouge would not come in. The soft sound of the lock being undone was heard by both. And for a fleeting moment, Sothe considered jumping into the room, promise or not. Yet, he didn't and simply watched as Muarim walked through the door closing and locking again.

In a way, Sothe felt betrayed by his friend. What line had he crossed to result in such treatment? What was it that caused this reaction? And why wouldn't Tormod share it with him? Yes, Muarim was family, but Sothe had pride himself in being one of the mage's closest companions. Yet, here stood said closet companion staring at the wood, wishing that he was on the other side. Practicality took over, and the rouge left, casting one more futile glace at the door.


When Muarim had entered the room he quickly locked the door, knowing that his 'son' wanted privacy just as much as he did. "Little One." the laguz murmured, gently picking up the mage into his arms. Tormod sniffled, his arms wrapped securely around the tiger's neck. The father sat down in th middle of the bed, holding the beorc in his lap.

"What's wrong, Tormod?" he asked softly, a hand rubbing the teen's back in soothing circles. "Why such actions?"

The red haired teen didn't reply right away, giving a another sniffle before attempting to speak. "Sothe..." his voice raw and filled with emotions. "He's getting married." The last word cracked, as a fresh onslaught of emotions coursed through him. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes, which he furiously scrubbed at.

"And why is that so troubling Little One?"

"I-I-I...do-don't-" He tried, but then stopped, the small droplets of water rolling down his face. He buried his face into the strong chest of his father. Muarim didn't press, as he heard dampened sobs come from the desert mage. Call it a fatherly instinct or even a laguz instinct, but he somehow knew the reason behind Tormod's current state. They remained in that position, Tormod quietly sobbing his heart out, with the laguz offering what comfort he could. Silence (minus Tormod's weeping) reigned the room, and the tiger let his mind muse on the situation at hand.

He almost missed the mage's words as they were heavy with sadness and muffled by his shirt.

"I do know." Tormod chocked out. "I know why it's so difficult. I fell in love with him."

"Tormod..." the laguz began. "We do not have to stay." His dark eyes staring at the unlit fireplace. Muarim's first priority was the boy in his arms, not this laguz hating country. If the beorc wanted to leave, then so be it. The mage pulled away to look up at the laguz. Tormod didn't reply, tears still falling down his cheeks. The father gently wiped them away with his thumb, "Sleep Little One." He chastised himself for burdening the boy with more thoughts. Placing a loving kiss on the top of red strands, Muarim wrapped a blanket (having been folded at the end of the bed for extra warmth) around his adoptive son. The mage sniffled, pushing closer in the chest of his father.

The tiger then began humming a soft tune, one that he had been forced to learn when he was a slave. His mistress had insisted that he hum it to their baby daughter in an effort to calm the wailing child, and to avoid the harsh responsibility that came with the newly born. After adopting Tormod, he would often use the gently song to ease the boy's mind after nightmares. Once he grew out of that stage, the laguz had ceased, only to have the mage beg him to hum it before going to sleep.

A small reminisce of his life os slavery, but it held no venom as most others did. In fact, Muarim recalled (a bit fondly) how peaceful and adorable the baby girl had been after the song was done. When Tormod entered his life, more fond memories built upon those already there.

A small rap occurred, and he focused his eyes upon the large window. Vika slowly pushed the window open so as not to disturb her sleeping boss. Once inside and situated upon the bed as well, she spoke in hushed tones. "Micaiah informed me," she answered his unspoken question. Her dark eyes fell upon the beorc. "What's wrong with the Boss?"

"Have you heard of Sothe and Micaiah's marriage?"

"Ah..." the raven replied, already piecing it together. Muarim raised an eyebrow at her. Vika merely shrugged, "He spoke so affectionately about him." He nodded, accepting her response.

"So what will we do now? Stay?"

"We will do what Tormod wants."

She nodded, before pulling herself closer to her family. Muarim shifted so that he was leaning against the head board (pillows behind him) with Tormod protectively in one arm. Vika leaned against the pillows as well, but preferred to rest her head upon the tiger's shoulder. And there they stayed for the night.


Four days. Four days of watching Muarim or Vika step out of the room and then step back in for on reason or another. And each time he saw, Sothe would glare heatedly at the door separating him from Tormod. The only tidbit he would receive from either laguz was that the mage was in good health. However he had little time to ponder over it as the wedding day/inauguration was fast approaching. And then suddenly, he was standing in front watching as Micaiah was crowned the new Queen of Daein. The rouge watched, not really paying attention, the words just indistinguishable sounds, as thoughts drifted again to the red haired mage. A resounding cheer snapped him back into attention, and emerald eyes saw the dazzling, delicate crown nestled upon the silver hair. He smiled, pleased with her, but noting that the crown appeared so out of place.

Micaiah raised her hands for peace which was given. "People of Daein. I am honored and humbled to be your Queen. However, I would like to tread this path not alone." A gloved hand was extended to him, which he took gracefully, heart thumping in his chest. He smiled at her, loving the warmth radiating from her, the soft feeling of holding her hand. A thundering roar filled the throne room, many already knowing what it was the silver haired maiden was implying.

Rhys (having been informed of this earlier) stepped forward to oversee the exchange of vows. Sothe could see the Greil Mercenaries cheering as well, and he smiled at his mentor and hero, Ike. The blue haired hero smiled back, and the rouge felt like he had just received praise from a father. As he looked over the crowd, emerald eyes settled upon a cloaked figure nestled in the back. A hood was thrown over his head and it appeared as if he didn't want to be seen. The Queen of Daein gently squeezed his hand, locking eyes with him. She knew what he wanted. So he turned his back and focused on the frail priest and the vows he would say.


Tormod wondered if Sothe had seen him, it was difficult to say being so far back. But he wouldn't take a chance. Once seeing hearing Rhys pronounce the two husband and wife, he slipped away under the exuberant crowd, knowing that even if his friend saw, by the time he could get away from the commotion, he would already have a traveled at least three marks worth. Pushing past the crowd he wormed his way out of the throne room, out of the entry way, and finally out of the castle. Muarim and Vika were awaiting for the mage on the outskirts, garbed in long cloaks with the hoods cast over them.

"Muarim, Vika. Let's go."

"Tormod...are you sure about this?" the tiger asked. The desert mage looks up to his father slowly nodding. Accepting the beorc's decision he dropped any further questions and concerns. Vika bristled underneath the cloak, not at all enjoying the weight upon her wings nor the discomforting position they were required to be in. She began walking as soon as she saw her Boss start, eager to shed the blasted article and get away from the falling snow.

They hadn't made it too far from Nevassa when a voice called out.

"Tormod."

The three halt upon hearing it, and the mage turned around to see Sothe standing there.

"Sothe!?" Evident surprise adorned the red haired teen's face. "You're supposed to be at your wedding ceremony! And getting congratulations and, and...and..! Not here!!"

Ignoring the sputtering, the new King of Daein solely focused upon the mage. "I want an explanation. Why?"

Vika gently tugged at the tiger's cloak her bright blue eyes boring into his. Reluctantly, Muarim let himself be pulled ahead of the two teens, casting one more glace to the shorter one. Sothe barely registered the two parting, his full attention upon his friend.

"We need to get back. Laguz slavery isn't going to stop itself." It sounded weak to both of them, even if it was half truth.

Sothe narrowed his eyes, "Not that."

Tormod suddenly found the white snow oh so very interesting and watched the snow fall down. The king examined the teen. Trying to decipher what it was the mage was hiding. Desperately, a feeling Sothe did not like, he reached out to grab the shorter. Tormod flinched. The hand, mere inches away halted in its pursuit. Sothe narrowed his eyes, but pulled the offending appendage back. "Tormod..."

The mage just looked away, letting his eyes fall upon Daein's capital, Nevassa. "I was right." he whispered. "I predicted you would become the King of Daien." The taller said nothing, simply recalling that memory. Soft grass, hands playing through his hair, Crimea's capital within a days walk.

"Tell me."

"I can't."

"...You won't."

"No....I won't." Tormod confirmed, and then looked up at his friend. His love. "Goodbye Sothe."

The words seemed so final in the emerald haired teen's mind. So absolute. A part of him realized if he let the mage go, like this, he would never see him again. The other part was at a loss. The words spinning in his head so widely, he couldn't form a coherent thought. The brown cloak, hiding the trademark orange dyed one, grew smaller as Tormod continued walking away. With each step, Sothe could feel something breaking. Something crumbling and another building. The walls that the red haired teen had destroyed upon their meeting were forming once again. Each step, another part formed, and the bond they had built slowly fell away.

Not like this, his mind screamed. Not like this! "TORMOD!"

The mage stopped, having just reunited with his two companions. He half turned back to gaze at the king. Sothe stared at the tears tracing the other's profile. It wasn't like he hadn't seen the mage cry before. When Muarim was on the verge of becoming a Feral One, tears had fallen from the dark eyes. Yet, these. The look upon his face. It was so utterly...sorrowful.

Seconds ticked by and eventually the mage turned away to began their journey home again. The King of Daein just simply watched, his mind and body not working together anymore. He wanted to run. To grab the mage and make him explain everything. But his arms and legs just won't obey. So, instead he watched as Tormod walked away.

Away rom Daein.

Away from him.


Micaiah closed the door. It had been a long day for her. Nearly everyone had wondered as to why the king had up and left not a minute after their ceremony. Diplomatically, she had created an excuse for his absence and upon his return crafted yet another one. Now, the two were alone, the sounds of the ceremony still echoing but fading as the sun faded. "Sothe..."

The King of Daein sat on the edge of the bed, staring into the fireplace. The warm glow of the fire giving off dancing shadows that played about the room. She climbed on the large mattress and gently placed her arms around him, her head resting upon his shoulder. The only acknowledgment she got was a slight shift to lean against her. His shoulders sagged as he finally let his guard down. The king soaked up the warmth from his queen, hoping that she could ease the empty spot in his heart.


Frack! This thing was long! When I first started typing I was thinking only a few pages. Like 4-5, but nooooooooo~ my mind just had to continue and my fingers just had to obey. Sheesh...

Love Radiant Dawn. I've replayed it at least three times, but now I have no Wii. Oh the sadness!!!! o_O

Besides that, I'm happy with how this turned out. Some parts are a little iffy, but I really wanted to get this thing posted. I hope the characters were in character. Tormod may not be so much, but come on...he's having an emotional time here..........yes that is my excuse if he's too OOC. Bite me! *Sticks out tongue* Not too much Micaiah, she was more of a background character. Oh, and I couldn't for the life of me find out probable colors for Begnion. So I made some up. Yup, blue and white...if anyone can tell me the colors for the countries, I'd be thrilled!

Anyway, enough of my blabbering review kay? ZGDog says peaceout!