Title: On The Wing
Series: Golden Sun
Character/pairing: bit of Isaac/Ivan
Rating: G
Author's note: Title comes from an Owl City song (because it was that or Wings Of Desire). Alludes to future DD happenings, but no spoilers on that front. A pinch for GSfest for Leonthi.. Sorry for the wait, life got crazy and I got sick and the fic I was kicking didn't want to comply a bit.


His head feels dizzy and aches around the edges. The Wings of Anemos soar, lifting them over the strong rivers and tiny streams alike, over forests and some of the smaller hills. Mountains are still a hazard, but only in that they might crash upon them, in a moment of their psyenergy weakening, or a fell wind taking them off course. The wind tosses his hair about, and he has to keep pushing his bangs out of his face, but it's the most exhilarating feeling he's ever found.

He hears a cheer go up as they soar higher. Garet's voice is loud above everyone else as he shouts, We did it! We really did it! Mia's reaction is more restrained, her hands clasped delicately together and a satisfied smile.

Sheba takes a moment from their lifting to wrap her arms about Jenna and they spin, laughing together. The ship dips slightly, enough to shake them, and elicit a few startled gasps, and cries go up as they begin to slowly sink towards the forests they had been flying high above.

"I believe it would be best if you saved your celebration for later," Kraden says. He wipes sweat from his forehead with a cloth with one hand. The other clings tight to the bow of the ship.

"Sooorry," Sheba says. There's no regret in her voice, and she and Jenna share one last giggle and whispered secret before they return their full attention to the ship.

The ship itself is magnificent, more so than Ivan thought possible. Its sails ripple upwards, and the way the wood fits together is simplistic, yet beautiful. Slivers of daylight peek from behind the clouds, clouds they seem eye to eye with. Sheba reaches up and puts her fingers through what looks to be a white ball of fluff, but finds her fingers wet. She shakes them and sprinkles Jenna with wet drops.

"Sheba!" Jenna says, amidst laughter. Even Felix cracks a rare smile at that.

They are binding and becoming one group of heroes. Ivan still doesn't know the other group well, but he enjoys discussions with Piers and Kraden, who can get into dissertations of the motives of the ancient races for hours on end. Sheba has begun to play pranks on him, which has made him a little wary of her, but Jenna has assured her that Sheba does that to everyone–especially to Felix.

The last lighthouse is nigh, but Ivan can barely feel pensive over the buyout feeling of happiness floating up in him. Happiness at flying, happiness at meeting all these people, just like him, and the knowledge that he has family. Not just Hama, but all of these fellow heroes who have seen so much of the world with, with whom he has found parts of himself and grown and changed with.

He feels a laugh bubble up, and catches another rare smile–Isaac's as they soar on towards the wintry reaches of Prox.


Ivan stays out long after everyone else has gone in. The air has grown chillier by night, and with each mile closer to Prox. It feels numbing to his aching head. White stars glisten above him, and he reaches out as if he could just touch them yet if he tried. He stays out anyways, even as the wind stings his cheeks. He quietly says each constellation to himself as they pass on. He was born in the sign of the virgin; Garet in the sign of the ram, and Isaac in the sign of the bull. He is still learning the star signs of the rest of the group, and has only read lightly to the prophecies conducted via reading the stars. Prescience seems to run in his family; he can only think that he should add the stars as another thing he should examine to find their way through a murky future.

"You all right?" Isaac murmurs, so low he can barely hear him over the sound of the wind.

Ivan turns and nods, albeit a bit awkwardly. "I didn't expect it, that's all..." He trails off. "The aftereffects...it's like a headache."

"Like a bad hangover," Isaac says.

"I didn't take you for a drinker," Ivan replies.

"I'm not–it's just a phrase our mayor used to use a lot," Isaac says.

They fall into silence, gazing high above the bow of the ship.

"I didn't think I'd ever get a chance to fly. I've dreamed of it, even made models, but..I didn't think it'd happen."

"Models?" Isaac queries, with a tilt of his head.

"Winged contraptions...I haven't made a title for them. I don't think they'll be anything more than a dream. You see I...I fiddle with things. It's hardly worth noting, really."

Isaac nods.

Ivan clears his throat. He's never admitted this love to anyone, not even Master Hammet. Lady Laylana and Master Hammet have of course, known of his habits of tinkering, but they've no idea of how deep it goes, and they dismiss it with gentle laughter, with their own, even parental manner.

"I just like to make things," Ivan admits. "Like this ship..."

He runs his hands over the starboard side of the ship. The wood is smooth beneath his touch. It has been sanded until it is sleek, covered with a sealing liquid to save the porous wood from damage. Everything about it is so efficient and yet lovely; he wants to take it apart and put it back together again like every clock or broken latch he has fixed.

"It's nothing, really," Ivan says dismissively. "Just a hobby, of sorts.

"I don't think it's nothing. I'm sure you can do it," Isaac says. It is said so simply, with Isaac's unassuming assurance. Unlike Garet's loud, unthought encouragement, Isaac's seems well-thought out, sincere in his own earnest way.

"Thank you, Isaac," Ivan says. He rubs at his cheeks, rosy from cold; to an outsider it might be mistaken for a blush.

"It's cold," Isaac says. To some he could seem abrupt, even gruff. Ivan has never taken offense at this, feeling as if he has seen the boy behind the hero he has had to become.

"I don't mind," Ivan says.

"You could blow away in wind like this," Isaac says.

Ivan looks down, a bit embarrassed. "I am rather built like a reed, but I don't think the winds are that bad..."

"Come in," Isaac says, in exasperation. It is a command, not a request.

Ivan nods. He takes one last look at the stars above before he goes. Isaac's hand is about his wrist, leather gloves coarse to his bare skin. His ever subtle persistent worry warms Ivan inside through and though. Ivan catches sight of a falling star there, shining and brief. A multitude of wishes passes through him. One world where he lives with his friends happily, where he can keep seeing rare glimpses of Isaac's smile and still visit Kalay and Contigo. A place where he can fly from place to place, taking hours, not months, to reach all his loved ones.

"A falling star," Ivan says. It disappears beyond the horizon, a bright speck of dust below the clouds.

"Did you make a wish?"

"I guess," Ivan says. "Did you?"

"I don't make wishes," Isaac says.

And doesn't that sum him up? Isaac makes things happen, doesn't sit back. He makes his wants come true, and accepts what doesn't. Ivan smiles to himself. Isn't that just like him.

"Of course," he says. The door closes behind him and he blinks into the light and expectant gazes. Isaac's hand still grasps his. Sheba and Jenna both let out an oooooh which breaks to a fit of giggles.

Kraden shakes his head. "Don't mind them, they did the exact same thing to Felix and Piers not an hour ago."

Piers looks a little shaken, and Felix gives them an annoyed glance, but says nothing. Isaac as well says nothing as he lets go of Ivan's hand and goes deeper into the ship.

"He's such a spoilsport," Sheba says. There's a card game before them, and from the looks of it, Sheba is cheating again. Garet isn't here, so Ivan can only assume that he's retired and gone below deck. Mia sips at her tea, seeming deep in thought. Probably about what will happen when she has to face Alex in combat.

But for Ivan, the feeling of jubilance still hasn't left him, even with the aftereffects of the headache. He rubs at his wrist where the leather of Isaac's glove chafed his skin and smiles to himself. His own little secret. He wishes the mark would scar so he could touch it and remember this day even when he has grown old and his memory has begun to fade.