Ike looked at Tibarn, who stared off into the horizon as he stood at the edge of the leveled cliff. Seawater smashed against boulders far, far below. A gentle breeze flew by them both and rustled the few patches of grass that grew through the rocky surface beneath their feet.
The afternoon sun drew a yellow outline around Tibarn’s body and gave him an ethereal look.
A pirate by trade, Tibarn’s body was toned and robust, every inch corded in thick muscle, not a slab of fat anywhere to be seen. A tower of a man, he made even Ike’s respectable 5’11’’ paltry. His dark hair draped down to his broad shoulders like the leaves of a willow tree, spiky like the quills of a porcupine.
Tibarn’s popped-collar green coat was never buttoned-up, so his pecs and abs peeked through, ripped and sharp. One could no doubt scrub charcoal against them and come out holding a diamond. Two great brown wings long as he was tall sprouted from his back, which revealed his heritage as laguz — a hawk, specifically.
Ike opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
His breaths felt strange, and his windpipe oh so tight, like he had to consciously push and pull oxygen in and out of his body. His heart beat in his throat, and the ends of his nerves tingled like nails were hammered into them. A cool sweat rolled down his temple as he tugged at his tunic’s neckline.
Gah! Enough hesitation, he thought. He needed to do this. He wanted to do this.
But he couldn’t. Why was this so difficult?
To an unknowing third party, it shouldn’t have been. Ike ended wars and slayed deities, hell, his very profession as a mercenary already threatened to put him in an early grave every single day, but a talk with an old war pal was where he crossed the line? How illogical.
But there was something different. This was Tibarn. An ally. A friend. A close one, at that. And even in the best case scenario, if Ike went through with this, whatever happened that day would have forever changed their relationship, for better or for worse.
The thought of change scared him.
But the thought of things staying exactly the same terrified him more.
Ike let out a breath and shook his head violently.
“Tibarn,” he said with newfound calm.
Tibarn spun around. “Ike, it’s been far too long! How’ve you been?”
“Can’t complain I suppose, mercenary work is going well enough,” he replied, “But that’s not why I called you here. I need a favor. It's. . . a big one.”
“That so? Shoot, then. Anything you need, consider it done."
Ike hesitated. Even after all that psyching up from before, he found it difficult to articulate his desires into words.
So he chose to use no words at all.
He unbuckled the belts that held his plated shoulder guard, then took it off and cast it aside. It clanged against the rocky surface.
“What are you—”
Not yet done, Ike grabbed the bottom of his blue mercenary tunic and pulled it up and over his head, revealing a lean yet muscular body, a physique only obtainable through rigorous training and self-discipline. He discarded the tunic much the same way he did the shoulder pad.
“You’re not.”
“I am.” Ike nodded. “Tibarn, I challenge you to a fight, right here, right now.”
Challenge. That word echoed in Ike’s mind; he specifically used it for a reason. Laguz were prideful and impulsive by nature. Say the right things and push the correct buttons, and one could bait even the titanium-willed ones to forgo rational thought and enter a frenzied state. Tibarn restrained himself better than most, but even he couldn’t fully resist the natural programming etched into his brain.
In Tibarn’s eyes, Ike could see something. A beast shackled in chains; it kicked and clawed to break free of the restraints Tibarn put it under.
It was time to let that beast out.
Tibarn paused for a moment, then crossed his arms. “Well, not that I oppose the idea of kicking your ass, but are you sure about this one? I don’t think your friends back home are going to appreciate the state I’ll send you back in if we go through with this.”
“You said you’d do anything I asked. Don’t tell me you’re backing out now.”
“I’m not. It’s just that I hadn’t expected an answer like this, and—”
“Are you scared?”
Ike could almost see gears turn in Tibarn’s head. An obvious strike to his ego was something he could not overlook.
Tibarn smirked, a poor attempt to mask the exasperation in his face. “That’s real cute, Ike. Are you trying to commit suicide by hawk? Let me tell you, it’s not a pretty death whatsoever.”
“I’ve seen you on the battlefield. I know what I’m up against.”
“Oh, Ike.” Tibarn chuckled as he took off his jacket, pulling his wings through the holes on the back with surgical precision. He threw it over his shoulders. “You don’t know the beginning of it.”
And just like that, the chains snapped.
The beast roamed free.
Tibarn walked toward him, the stride in his legs full of muted aggravation, ready and raring to kick the nearest butt available. He stopped mere feet from Ike. Eyes locked, and time felt like it had stopped. The wind picked up and howled. No words were exchanged.
Because they didn't need to be.
One fight between men would’ve said more than a lifetime of words.
They sprung into wrestler poses and walked in a circular motion. An odd yet intricate dance, primal and savage. Step by step, the circle shrunk and the gap between the shirtless men grew narrower.
In the blink of an eye, a clash formed. They grappled, hands pressed on the other’s shoulders, two forces that battled for dominance. Ike pushed with every drop of vigor he could muster. That, in tandem with his opponents body heat, made sweat pour down every crevice of Ike’s body, not unlike a well oiled machine.
Moments turned to seconds, turned to minutes. This was going nowhere, and fast. A brick wall would have offered less resistance than Tibarn did.
But then, disaster struck. Ike’s feet slid backwards, only a little. Then, again. And again, and again, and again. And he was powerless to stop it. The opposing force grew stronger.
It was an all-out war, and Ike was losing.
And at that instant, gravity disappeared. With the power that rivaled a tsunami’s, Tibarn had sent him flying backwards. Ike's body was still as a mannequin, like it had just accepted the loss. The residual momentum carried him across the coarse rocky surface with all the grace of a plank of wood on sandpaper.
Ike recovered and crouched on one knee. Numerous scratches formed on his back side, all afflicted patches of skin burning like hot oil had poured over them, accentuated by bitter sweat. He rubbed his upper arm and looked at his hand, only to find that his fingers had donned a light shade of red.
Some of the cuts were deeper than he had thought.
Tibarn approached. “Bleeding already?”
Ike stood, his footing still a little uneasy, like the ground beneath him would collapse. “Don’t count me out yet, I’ve barely gotten started!”
He donned a smile that could kill a man. “Ho-hoh. Glad to see you're confident even when careening off a cliff. Come at me, then.” He extended his arms sideways.
Ike paused. A competition of endurance was out of the question. Tibarn simply had too much raw power for Ike to rival, so the longer this match went on, the worse it would get. He needed something that would immediately tip the scales in his favor.
The jaw. That was it. Nature's knockout button. One true strike there, and even had Tibarn remained conscious, it'd surely have stunned him and bought Ike the time he needed to launch a counter offensive.
His fist clenched, and with what felt like all the force in the universe backing him up, he lunged. Tibarn watched, arms crossed and smug expression unchanged, as if his victory was in the bag and there was nothing Ike could do to stop him.
The thought tightened his hand further. He swung.
He missed.
For a second, Ike thought Tibarn had just disappeared. He moved so fast. Impossibly fast for any normal person to.
Well, to be fair, 'normal people' didn't come with giant wings.
He used his wings to not only dodge the attack, he spun around ninety degrees. Ike's arm flew past his chest in slow motion, mere inches away from the targeted jaw.
But inch or a mile, a miss was a miss.
Then, a quick, sharp pain dug into Ike’s torso, right beneath the rib cage and directly into the diaphragm. Tibarn's leg sunk into his flesh like a club into gelatin, and with such might Ike thought it would have split him right in half. The world around him shattered into glass. With one swift blow, Tibarn kicked all the air out of Ike's lungs like it had never even been there.
Ike fell to his knees and hands, and took heavy breaths. He coughed and wheezed with all the grace of a donkey. Scratch that, a donkey sounded better.
Before he could even fully process what happened, a tough leather boot stomped between his shoulder blades and pressed down on them.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk ." Tibarn rested his arms on the leg that pinned Ike down. "Come on, Ike, I've been fighting for longer than you've been alive. You didn't think I'd anticipate your movements?” He stroked his chin. “Or, dare I say it, you secretly wanted this to happen?”
Ike spoke through his panting — tried to, at any rate, — but all that came from his lips were unintelligible mumbles.
His body refused to let him speak. Not only was the mere brain power needed to process and say words a tough toll to pay at that moment, but there was another reason that kept his mouth shut.
To have said ‘you’re wrong’ would have been a lie.
And Tibarn knew a liar when he saw one.
“Heh, wouldn’t that be a funny twist? War hero Ike, slayer of a deity and champion of Tellius, a total jobber. Well, since you’re so hungry for it.” Tibarn set his knee on Ike’s lower back. “The least I could do is give you your well-earned prize.”
Two beefy hands approached Ike’s face from behind and clasped around his mouth and nose, fingers intertwined in such a way that no oxygen could come in or out anymore. What Ike had in him was all he would’ve ever had, and what he had was very, very little.
Then, Tibarn pulled Ike's head up and dug his knee into his spine like a drill, pinning the waist to the rocky surface below and giving him the shape of a scorpion’s tail. Ghastly agony surged through Ike’s body like jolts of electricity through metal.
In only a few seconds his heart kicked into overdrive. The little pocket in the cusp of Tibarn's hands lacked even a fraction of air the heart needed to support his struggling body. The pain increased his need to breathe, which made the pain worse, which further increased the need to breathe; an endless cycle of misery. Funny how the body, in its panic, only consumed the limited resource faster than if it had done nothing at all.
Air grew dense and warm in no time. Ike’s inner ears throbbed, lips stung, and his eyes were ready to pop out at any second like a party popper. His head was barely mobile outside of slight shifts to the side, his legs flailed, and his hands scratched and pried at Tibarn’s, but not even a molecule could slip through his iron grip.
“Can you feel it, Ike?" Tibarn said. Even without looking, Ike could hear Tibarn's sadistic smile widen. “Can you feel how close your spine is to snapping in two? I can. You’re mere inches away from never walking again.” He pulled his head with a little bit more force as if to prove a point. “Does that worry you? Does it scare you how much power I have over you, that I could quite literally destroy your life with the snap of my fingers?”
Ike didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His body didn’t have the energy to spare for even one pathetic nod or a weak ‘uh-huh.’ All it could do was lay there, beneath his knee, and concede to whatever fate had in store for it.
There was nothing to do. Ike’s lungs were in a jail cell, and there was no key.
Asphyxiation soon led his heart rate to plummet, and the time between each beat grew exponentially longer. Static blood flowed through his veins, and his limbs began to shut down and gimp. His hands grew cold and distant. Dots danced in front of his vision which grew blurrier by the second, the only noise the sound of his pleading exhales.
Staying awake became hell.
—
Tibarn let go.
Ike’s body flung into the ground like a stone released from a slingshot. An epiphany clicked in his head as oxygen waterfalled into his respiratory organs with intense gusto. He could breathe again. The air, something he took for granted his entire life, never felt so crisp and cool. He hacked and choked until his throat reddened, but none of that mattered. He was alive.
Little by little his body sprang back to animation. As did the pain. Ike’s back ached like that of a 60-year-old man’s, and his lungs felt ready to collapse at any moment just from lying on the ground.
Not even a moment of rest to be had, a sound echoed; leather boots marched around him.
The march of Death itself.
“Come on, Ike, get up. We’re not done here yet.”
Tibarn hooked his hands beneath Ike's noodle arm, and lifted gently, yet firmly, like how a parent would hold their child’s hand. Pins and needles poked out of Ike’s skin, and Tibarn’s embrace sent shivers coursing through his flesh. The rest of his body followed his rising arm, not a modicum of resistance to be seen. The straighter his posture got, the harder the imprint of Tibarn’s knee on his back stung.
He stood, or at least did a newborn’s interpretation of what standing was. Were it not for Tibarn holding him up, he’d have no doubt crumpled into a pile of string right then and there. His legs might as well not have been there at all.
"Oh Ike, what do I do with you?" Tibarn gave his side a light smack. "How about something you'd like? Something close. Something intimate." His hands slid down to Ike’s lower back, and his right hand clasped over the left’s wrist. "Something, like this—!"
He pulled Ike off the ground with no effort whatsoever, and locked him in a bearhug. Ike's torso crashed against Tibarn's, chest and abs meeting his. Surprisingly, the pressure to his back felt numb at first, like had been hugged through several layers of pillows.
If only it stayed that way.
But then, feeling and circulation returned to his lower back, and the pain exacerbated. It was not unlike how the hottest chilli peppers started mild but grew unbearably hotter with every passing second, until it got to a point you were sweating out all your organs.
His spine was paper. Every single vein in Ike’s body expanded and shrunk in one-second intervals, threatening to pop any second. Ike's back wounds opened from the strain, and thin lines of blood dripped down his back and right to Tibarn’s hands, buried into him. Whether he didn’t notice or didn't care, Ike couldn't tell. For all he knew, it probably made him more excited. Tibarn didn't even keep a consistent pressure; he'd relieve his hold a little only to crush even harder the microsecond Ike gasped for even a crumb of oxygen; the equivalent of kicking food out of a starving person’s grasp just as he leaned in to take a bite.
Tibarn's visage this close up was one of beauty and terror. Even through Ike’s blurred vision, every detail was on full display and clear as the ocean, from his strong chin to the permanent scar stretching in a line below his eyes before turning and trailing the corner of his lips. His breath reeked through his killer's smile, hot and steamy as he exhaled.
"Do you know why laguz are so good at fighting, Ike?" Tibarn said, "Instinct. When we battle, nothing holds us back. And that’s what makes us terrifying."
Ike looked away, unable to look at the person in front of him. The guy that caused him all this pain. His tormentor. And yet, his hands found themselves on Tibarn's biceps, before trailing down to his triceps, admiring the work of nature he’s been entrapped by in more ways than just physical.
“You’re lucky, Ike. You don’t know how much I have to hold myself back; the more I hurt you, the easier it becomes to continue doing so. When I see you reeling like this, every drop in my body wants to push the limit of what you can take. To have you in my arms like this, weak and frail and totally at my mercy, well, let’s just say that if you were anybody else, you’d probably be dead.” He laughed like it was the funniest joke ever told.
Ike wasn’t sure if that was supposed to reassure him.
His brain was stuffed with cotton, and everything around him moved a smidge faster than it should have. Thoughts evaporated from his mind as he stared into the distance. It hurt. Everything hurt. It hurt so badly. But there was comfort in it. A pervasive joy in being dominated by someone so strong and powerful. Someone whom you know could and would keep you safe. Always.
Without his conscious input, Ike's limbs trudge around Tibarn's ribcage, using up their last energy reserves to form a gentle hug of their own. Ike set his head on Tibarn's shoulder and learned into his hair. It was the most comfortable spot in the world.
His consciousness slipped away from him. He smiled.
—
Ike's eyes opened and blinked out of sync. Frigid gusts blew across his face, and the night sky stretched across every direction. How long had he been out?
His senses booted up, one by one. He was fully clothed again. Not just in his mercenary attire either; a popped-collar green jacket wrapped around him like a blanket. It was thin, but warm. Very warm. No wonder Tibarn liked it so much.
He lied on something. Something firm. Moments passed before he realized where he was. Tibarn carried him on his back, his hands grabbing Ike beneath the thighs. His wings were spread. Tibarn, still shirtless, was ready to fly.
Ike spoke, his voice timid as a new-born kitten, "T-Tibarn. . ?"
His head rose and turned. He retracted his wings. "Ike! I didn't expect you'd be awake so soon. How do you feel?"
Ike paused, then replied, "My mind feels foggy and my back hurts like hell. I'm out of breath just sitting here." He attempted a stretch. A quick shock of pain returned him to his initial position, and a breath escaped through his clenched teeth.
"Careful, you're in terrible shape." He sighed. "This is all my fault. I'm so, so sorry Ike. I wasn't able to keep myself from hurting you in such a terrible way."
"What are you apologizing for, you big feathery idiot? I loved every second of today."
Tibarn didn't reply. Silence reigned.
Ike said, "Where are we anyway?"
"Atop a mountain in Gallia. I'm not used to flying with a load on my back, so I'm taking a break here."
"Gah—? Why are you taking me away from Crimea?"
"I'm not bringing you home in this state, Ike. If your mercenary friends learned that I almost crippled and killed you on several occasions they'd murder me. Especially your sister."
Ike tried to come up with a retort, but nothing came to mind. She would have probably murdered him.
"I'm flying you to Phoenicis,” Tibarn continued, “You'll be staying in my palace to recover, and once you’re at full or at least acceptable strength, I’ll bring you back. You’ll write a letter back home to tell them you’re alive and well. That sound okay?”
Ike nodded as if he had any say in the matter.
Tibarn said, “Good.”
"Aren't your people going to ask what happened to me?" Ike asked.
"Sparring injuries aren't uncommon in Phoenicis. Of course, they're usually not this bad, but when I tell them it was a challenge, they'll understand why I had to do it."
Another pause.
Ike broke the silence for the third time. “You know, something’s on my mind right now. I remember you saying something before.”
“What?”
“Back when you had your hands clasped around my face, you said something along the lines of ‘Do you feel scared knowing I have so much control over you?’”
“Not my proudest line, in hindsight.”
“Yeah,” Ike said, “I’ve been thinking about it, and, no. I wasn’t scared whatsoever.”
“You weren’t?”
“No, because I trusted you, Tibarn. Still do.”
“Even after this?”
“Especially after this. The amount of yourself you no doubt held back to protect me only proves that."
"Hm."
Ike said, "That's why I'd gladly redo this day over and over again. And I know you would, too."
"What makes you think that?"
"Am I wrong?"
Tibarn exhaled. "Ike, this isn't healthy for either of us. You're able to bounce back from what happened today, but if we keep roughhousing like this it's only a matter of time before I do something I won't be able to take back."
Ike’s lips pursed and he let out a hum. "So, what happens now? As in, between you and me?"
"I'm. . . not sure. I don't think you're going to give up on me if I rejected you outright. You’re probably just going to pursue me even harder." Tibarn looked up. "Besides, I don't want to give up on you either. I want what we have, whatever the hell it is, to work out. And I want us to find out how, together."
"Tibarn, you big old softie. When did you learn to be so sentimental?"
“Believe me, I hate it.” Tibarn snickered. “But I do mean what I said.”
He wrapped his hands around him. "I know.”
Tibarn spreads his wings again. “Alright, buckle up then. It’s a long way to Phoenicis, and I am not a patient man.”
For more stories from Lucius (id 14609), please click here