Series: Fire Emblem 9
Author's note: I got Sarajaye in NPT. She asked for Tibarn/Reyson. FE9, the aftermath of "Twisted Tower." Hurt/comfort and angst and resolve.
Ike and his army had been left alone with the clean up of the bodies, and the leftovers of the tower. Tibarn had slipped away, a slip of brown feathers and rage up into the skies, flesh melding to laguz form. Reyson had waited a spell before following. Even from this distance, he could hear the sound of shovels in the rough ground, and the collecting of wood for a pyre. Soon, ashes and the scent of smoke would fill the air.
In his years of resolve, he had grown stronger, but not strong enough to withstand this. Knowing when to withdraw was in itself, a part of strength. Albeit one that he was still learning.
He did not have Tibarn's powerful wingspread, nor his sharp skills as a hawk, but he could feel. Despite the lingering darkness of the feelings of the Feral Ones he had absorbed before the chaos of war closed his powers, he pushed on. He opened up his heart to feel the trace of the one he knew so well.
Far past the camp and into the woods he followed the trail. Rough bark rubbed against his feathers and palms. Even the forest had been poisoned by the toxicity. A faint scent of ashes was on the air, almost enough to make him keel over and gasp for breath as the memories overcame him.
Humans had done this. He refused to grant these...creatures the name of beorc. They would always remain as humans, twisted and hateful beings which burned his kind and enslaved them.
But others, like Ike, could earn the name of beorc.
Tibarn had once told him Let your hate burn inside you and motivate you, not consume you. He focused on that, now. On Tibarn's voice and touch, the memories of his imposing presence and laugh. With some renewed strength, he went between the trees.
The tension hung in the air, like walking through clouds. He could feel his anger matching Tibarn's own. He followed the trail of emotions, negative fingerprints left among the stones
A several trees had broken down, with newly split bark. Tibarn's knuckles dripped blood.
Without a word, Reyson took them in his palms. He began to sing a gladrar. A flash of white enveloped them, cleansed the forest around them as well. Tibarn's skin healed, cracked and gored flesh fading into new white scars.
Tibarn still didn't speak, so Reyson spoke for him. He formed the words out of Tibarn's anger into being, purified them.
"There were so many of them," Reyson said, his voice taut with anger. "Their eyes were clouded over, until they were just senseless beasts. No honor, no spirit of our kind left within them."
"I killed twenty-seven of my own kind today," Tibarn said.
Reyson reached up to lay his hands over Tibarn's broad shoulders. At this point, he couldn't tell who was comforting whom, only that there was comfort there somewhere between them. Tibarn's hands remained at his sides. Resonating from him, Reyson could feel the mix of emotions. Desire to reach out and touch him, the overwhelming anger, and drawing back. A fear of hurting him.
"You should know by now that I'm not so delicate," Reyson said.
"Leave it to you to read me," Tibarn said.
"I could feel it. Their agony, the anger and pain as he caged them and forced them to fight. Their memories—we must not let it all be in vain. And Leanne, she was in there, surrounded by those horrors. I'll never forgive them, I swear it."
He gripped Tibarn's shoulders tighter. There was no fear of him hurting Tibarn, even if he held with all his might.
"I'll dismantle that tower stone by stone with my bare hands," Tibarn said.
Let the stones be ripped apart. Only when they were ground to dust could the ghosts of the laguz truly rest. Let the dismantling be their gravestones, and their vengeance with it.
Reyson pressed his head to Tibarn's chest. Tibarn's anger hadn't left him, but between them it was a controlled fire, a determination within their bones and flesh.
"This wasn't something you needed to bear alone," Reyson said.
Tibarn closed his arms tight about Reyson. Through everything, there was a calming, and a resolve. Near Tibarn, his powers unfurled fully again. He could hear the voices of the ghosts, the faint scent of ashes and smoke on the wind. They melded with the ghosts of his ancestors, his kind. They cried out for blood and vengeance. Even past the aching inside him, like his insides and very soul was scratched by this tower, he knew better than to fall into blind revenge.
No longer would he be bound so senselessly to his hate to blind his path. All he could do was promise them in the deepest corners of himself that their deaths would not be in vain. Reyson could not dismantle the skies with his own powers to rain down the judgement deserved, he couldn't even fight with his fists to defend them, but he would use his songs.
He would see that they would be remembered, and laid to rest. Never again would such atrocities come to Tellius as long as he lived. With Tibarn by his side, he knew it would come to pass if they had to fight the very world to do so.
"Do you want to stay back for a while?" Tibarn said.
"Nonsense. There'll be no retreating; I'll see this to the very end," Reyson said.
He tilted his head, making sense of Tibarn's emotions. Worry, concern tempered by cautiousness. He stroked Reyson's hair gently with his large, calloused hands.
"Ike and his troops aren't the same kind as whatever monsters did this," Reyson said.
"You've grown a lot since then," Tibarn said. For the first time since that day, his expression softened.
Reyson looked up to meet his gaze. He nodded, with the faintest of smiles.
For a fleeting second, the sounds of the ghosts quieted. One day, he would lay them to rest entirely, the sound of his song guiding them home.