Whatever I’ve done, I did it for love
In which legacies are chosen and sacrifices are made. Co-written and edited by the amazingly talented @aria-bun. I write the Soren POVs, they write the Corvus POVs Also on Ao3 and it has a playlist!
Soren nudged one of the zombies lying on the ground with his foot. It didn’t move. He knelt down to poke it with his finger but Corvus swatted his hand away before he could.
“Do. Not. Touch. That.”
“Bu-”
“No buts.” Corvus pulled him to his feet with a firm shake of his head and Soren sighed.
“Fine.” Later, he told himself, turning to scan what had moments ago been a battlefield but was now just… kind of a field. Spotting Rayla a few steps away, he jogged over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Look, Ray,” he nudged another nearby zombie with his foot. “They’re all just dead. Well, again. They’re all just re-dead.”
At first Soren was kind of offended that Rayla didn’t think that calling the zombies re- dead was funny, but then he realized that she hadn’t glared at him when he called her Ray. Which meant that something was wrong. Very wrong.
“Rayla?” he tightened his grip on her shoulder, turning her to face him. “Rayla, are you-”
Soren broke off midsentence, gazing into his friend’s wide, frightened eyes. There was only one thing that could have her that scared.
“Callum,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. “What has he done?”
And then she was running across the field, in the direction that her partner had flown, and Soren was running after her.
Please don’t let him have used Dark Magic, he thought as he ran. Please don’t let him have used Dark Magic. Not again.
Soren had only seen Callum do it once; and it wasn’t something he’d soon forget. He’d passed out right after, and Rayla had run to him just as she was now.
Was I wrong, not to stand by Claudia the way Rayla stands by Callum? Despite the Dark Magic? If I’d have stood by her, would she still be here doing this? Or would she…
Soren shook his head, there was no point in What Ifs. What was done was done. But he couldn’t help but hear the rest of the sentence echoing in his mind.
Would she still think of me as her brother?
Soren pushed himself to run faster, outpacing Rayla as they searched the encampment for Callum, focusing instead on the burning in his calves as he drove himself onward. His head whipped this way and that, searching desperately for any sign of the mage, but the base was in chaos; bodies covered the ground, both of zombies and of elves, and there was no giant Aaravos to point them in the right direction. Soren skidded to a halt.
There was no giant Aaravos.
Turning in a sharp circle, he scanned the skyline. Nope. No Aaravos. Where had he gone? What had Callum done?
Soren wracked his brain for the plan that the mage had been proposing, but Callum hadn’t had a chance to get to the details, Ezran and the others shutting it down as soon as the words Dark and Magic came out of his mouth in sequence.
Not knowing what else to do, Soren raised his hands to his mouth, cupping them around it as he called out across the field; “Callum!”
No reply. He tried a few more times, Rayla and Corvus joining in behind him, but to no avail. Kicking frustratedly at the heads of one the nearby zombies, Soren cursed under his breath. If Callum had gotten himself hurt - or worse, killed - he was going to kill him. Again. He’d re-kill him.
“You!” a snarl to his left made Soren’s head shoot up. He stared at Rayla as she took off across the field, heading straight for something he couldn’t see. Not knowing what else to do, he ran after her.
“Wait, Soren!” Corvus called from behind him, but he was single-minded in his pursuit. Whoever Rayla had seen had to be important, if it was enough to draw her away from the search for Callum.
But the elf was quick. All of that Moonshadow training, probably. By the time he rounded the corner she’d disappeared behind, there were already sounds of fighting coming from it. He threw himself to the ground as a burst of purple fire flew through the air right where his head had been.
“What have you done to Callum!?” Rayla shouted, and Soren had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he knew who she was talking to even before Claudia replied.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! If you’ve misplaced your boyfriend, that’s not my fault!”
There was another shout as Rayla threw herself at Claudia again, blades slashing, and Soren had to roll to the side to avoid getting trampled. He pushed himself to his feet just as another burst of fire forced him back to the ground. It was scarlet, this time.
They’re going to kill each other, he thought. They were going to kill each other.
Soren had lost enough people in his life. He didn’t intend to lose anymore.
Ignoring the continuing gouts of flame he pushed himself up off the ground and threw himself forward just as Rayla lunged forward again, forcing himself between the blade of her knife and Claudia.
“Wait!”
He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the bite of steel, but nothing came. Slowly opening one eye and then the other, he found the tip of the knife wavering only a few inches from his nose. Soren swallowed.
“Wait,” he repeated, quieter this time.
Rayla was frozen before him, chest heaving as she stared at him, and then past him, at…
He turned around, slowly, so as not to jostle the knife still hovering before his face, and looked at his sister. Her eyes were wide, but she was staring not at Rayla, but at him.
Soren’s mouth was suddenly very dry. Why was throwing himself in front of a knife easier than finding the words to express why he’d done it? Why he’d do it again? Why he’d do it a million times and never question it once?
Actions had always been easier for him than words, so instead of saying anything, Soren just leaned in and hugged her.
Claudia’s arms hung limply at her sides; not pushing him away, but not embracing him back, either. But he just held her there anyway. He knew that he’d do that for as long as she’d let him. Because he had given up on her, and it had hurt just as much as walking away that night on the mountain.
Finding his voice, Soren said the only words he could think of. “You might not think of me as your brother, but you’ll always be my sister.”
He heard her breath catch beside his ear and waited for her to push him away. To say that he was worthless, or that she didn’t want him, or that they weren’t family. Waited for her to call him delusional or foolish or just plain stupid. But instead her arms lifted, albeit shakily, and wrapped around him in return.
And she did call him stupid, then. But this time it made him smile.
“Don’t be dumb,” she whispered. “You’ll always be my brother.”
Soren closed his eyes so that nobody could see the tears in his eyes and squeezed Claudia tight.
“Good.”
He would have held her like that forever except it was then that Corvus’ voice echoed from the edge of the encampment.
“I found him! Soren, Rayla, I found him!”
It was enough to snap them back into reality and remind them that they were on opposite sides. Claudia jerked back from him as Rayla - who had thankfully lowered her blade - spun around to look at Corvus. Soren forced himself to drag his gaze off his sister and turn to look as well. There, at the edge of the field, lying in and amongst the fallen bodies of the zombies, was Callum.
Corvus was crouched over him, one hand out, gently shaking the mage’s shoulder. But he wasn’t moving. He wasn’t moving.
No, Soren felt a half formed sob catch in his throat. No, I’m not losing anybody else. Not Claudia, not Callum, not Ez or Rayla or Corvus. Nobody. Nobody ever again.
Rayla was already running across the field towards Callum’s crumpled form and out of the corner of his eye Soren spotted Claudia trying to back away. He spun around, catching her wrist before she could vanish again.
“Please,” he begged her, “stay.”
“I… They don’t want me here,” she shrugged away from him. “You don’t really want me here. And I need to go and find Aaravos.”
Something inside of Soren crumpled a little bit at those words. But, of course. One hug, one sentence, wasn’t going to change all of that. They were still enemies. Still on opposite sides of a war. But he did know one thing.
“I don’t care what they want,” Soren told her, taking a step after her as she retreated into the dark. “You’re my sister. Of course I want you here. Clauds, we’re…” he took a deep breath, forcing the words out. “We’re all that’s left of our family.”
She turned her head away, just like she had that night on the mountain, when he’d asked her to come with him. When he’d asked her to choose.
And he was asking her again.
“Stay with me, please. Don’t go. Just… we can make it work. We have to make it work.”
“You know that’s not true. This,” she glanced back at him, gestured between them. “This doesn’t work. Us. You… You’re a…” she couldn’t quite bring herself to say it. “I don’t even feel like I know you, anymore.”
“Of course, you know me. We grew up together. Claudia!” Soren’s voice rose, growing desperate. “You know me better than almost anybody!”
“Then maybe you don’t know me,” she almost whispered, taking another step back into the dark. Once, Soren had let her walk away, but this time he followed her. One foot into the dark, then another. If life was offering him a do-over, he was going to take it in both hands and not let go.
“I do understand you.”
‘No, you don’t. You… I thought that, once Dad was gone…” there was a sob in her throat that she forced down. “I thought that nobody understood me. But Aaravos, he does. We’re the same. He’s like me. Anything for family. However dangerous, however vile.”
She must have seen him wince when she said the words, because she took another step away again. “See? I told you.”
“Clauds, I-”
“He’s not breathing!” came the panicked shout from behind them, and Soren spun. There was too much happening, and too fast. Claudia paused midstep, her face falling as she realized what had happened.
They might be enemies now, but they had all grown up together.
Callum was family. Maybe more than Soren’s own had been, at times.
He glanced over his shoulder at Claudia, then back to Rayla and Corvus, crouched over the mage’s fallen form. The realization hit him like a smack to the face.
“Aaravos isn’t here,” he said slowly, more to himself than to Claudia. “It’s over. He did it.”
“Did what?” Claudia managed, eyes wide with horror as she realized what he meant.
“I- I don’t know but…” Soren turned back to Callum. He’d seen Dark Magic overdose before, when the light snuffed out of someone’s eyes and their legs went all fuzzy. It had happened to Claudia, once, when they were little. She’d been trying a new spell and it had been too much, too soon. But Soren had been able to fetch Viren in time, and he’d known what to do. It had been okay. It had been all okay and she’d said all that happened was that she had a really bad dream and a bit of a headache. And a week later, she’d had her nose in a book again and been back to practicing magic.
Soren spun to face Claudia, grabbing her by the shoulders in his panic. “What do we do? We can fix it, right?”
“I… Soren, if he’s not breathing-”
“There has to be a spell for that.”
She stared at him, then her gaze flicked to the lone horn emerging from his hairline, and when her eyes locked with his again they were filled with a steely resolve.
“There… is.”
“Then what is it?”
“Soren-”
“Claudia,” he told her, voice ragged. “He’s family. I don’t care.”
She swallowed, eyes narrowing as she looked past him at where the others were huddled around Callum. “Okay. I’m… we’re going to need someplace safe. Where we won’t be disturbed for a while.”
“Done.” Soren released her, spinning on his heel and running over towards the others. He only glanced back at Claudia once, having to just trust that she would stay. That she would help him with this. She had to, didn’t she?
“Get him to the war tent!” he shouted before he’d even crossed half the distance. Rayla looked up at him, and there were tears already spilling down her cheeks.
“Soren, he’s…”
“I’m going to fix this. It’s going to be okay.” Soren found himself repeating that, “It’s going to be okay.”
And then, as they carried Callum quickly towards the center of the encampment, again and again in his own mind.
It’s going to be okay.
It’s going to be okay.
It’s going to be okay.
When they arrived at the war tent, Soren and Corvus helped Rayla heave Callum up onto the table in the center of it. They’d offered to carry him for her, but she’d refused to let go of him for even a moment.
Soren recoiled at the way Callum’s head lolled to the side as they laid him on the table, his arms flopping at his sides. He knew that, no matter how many days or weeks or even years passed, he would always remember that image. It would be seared into his mind forever.
Claudia hesitated in the doorway until Soren gestured for her to come in. Rayla was too concerned with Callum to care who else was in the tent, and all that Corvus did was give Soren a worried glance. But he knew what he was doing.
Or at least, he hoped he did.
“What do we do next?” Soren asked, turning to his sister. He couldn’t help but think that this was probably a bit what it was like when Viren was learning magic from Kpp’Ar, or when Claudia was learning it from Viren.
He swallowed. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed to follow him. Dark Magic. Like it was in his blood, and no matter how hard he tried to distance himself from it, it would always be there. Just under the surface. Waiting.
Claudia, upon stepping into the tent, had snapped into mage mode. She was already pulling out her spellbook and opening it, pushing Callum’s hand aside so that she could place it on the table beside him.
“We’re going to need…” her eyes scanned down the page before her, and he saw her breathing quicken.
“Hurry,” he urged her.
“I am!” she snapped, eyes flashing up at him for a moment. But he could tell her heart wasn’t in it. “I’ve never… I’ve never read this one before. I didn’t want to know…”
“Know what?”
“This is the spell Dad used, Soren!” she exclaimed, suddenly, staring up at him. “This is the spell Dad used when you died!”
There was a moment of stunned silence in the tent and, for a moment, all eyes turned to him. Soren let out a strangled laugh that sounded wrong even to his own ears.
“I… I never died.”
“Yes, you did,” she whispered. “You died. And he brought you back with this spell.” Claudia jabbed a finger hard into the paper before her.
Soren found his feet carrying him around the side of the table. He didn’t want to believe her, and even more than that, he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know what his father had done to save him.
And yet.
And yet.
And yet-
He had to know.
Soren’s gaze ran down the page as everyone watched him, their silence hanging oppressively in the air.
The blood from a Wind Elk’s horn.
The petals of a delicate flower.
The tears of a Moonshadow Elf.
Soren paused at that one, confused, before he realized where they must have come from. He choked back the revulsion that rose in him. His mother, Viren’s wife, used just like any other elf would be by a Dark Mage.
He forced himself to keep reading, sure it couldn’t get any worse, but then…
An elf’s horn.
His hand went subconsciously to the single horn above his head, grazing the place where the other must have one been. It wasn’t a fluke, then. Not some quirk of being only half elf. He had another, once.
He squeezed his eyes shut at the memory of pain. The first thing he’d felt upon opening his eyes. His father’s face above his own, blurred and distorted, but horrific nonetheless.
“It’s okay. Shhh. Go to bed now. It’s all going to be okay. You’ll be better, now.”
Blood flecking the sheets of his bed in the morning, the rough feeling of a bandage under his hand as he reached up to find the source of the pain.
Soren had had nightmares, all his life, about his father hurting him. He’d never understood why; the man had never laid a hand on him. All his abuse had been doled out in words and scalding glances. But that wasn’t true, was it?
I’m as dead as those zombies out there. No, I am one of the zombies out there. Soren nearly started laughing, it was so funny. Except he thought that that might have made everybody worry. It kind of made him worry, too, and he hadn’t even done it.
What is zombie on zombie violence called? Is there a word for it?
Soren was finding it hard to breath. Maybe he was having a panic attack. Maybe one of the prerequisites of the spell was that he could never find out, and now that he knew it was going to fail and he was going to die.
Re-die, Soren corrected himself and almost started laughing again. He might have, had his chest and lungs been working properly.
And then Corvus was there, and he realized the other man had been reading the spell as well, over his shoulder. He reached out, taking hold of Soren’s shoulder, and gave it a tight squeeze.
“In and out,” he whispered, so low and close to Soren’s ear that only he could hear. “In and out.”
Soren fought through the rising panic and hysteria and followed Corvus’ instructions, feeling his chest rise and fall in time with his partner’s. Slowly, the breaths grew more even. Slowly, he began to feel like he could think again.
Everyone was staring at him. Their eyes seemed huge, in the dark, and Soren tried not to look directly at any of them. But then Corvus - thank Lady Justice for Corvus - he stepped forward and started barking orders; telling Claudia to get the ingredients they’d need out of her back and Rayla to retrieve the staff from where they’d left it beside the entrance of the tent.
Soren took the moment of distraction to lean back into Corvus, feeling his partner’s arms close around his waist as the other man’s chin rested on his shoulder. His breath tickled Soren’s ear as he spoke.
“I’ve got you.”
“I know,” Soren whispered back. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew that, and so long as that remained true, he could do this.
He would do this.
Rayla held the staff out towards Claudia as though they both might bite her, and Soren intercepted it with his own hand, fingers curling around the shaft of it like that’s what they were made to do.
It felt a bit like fate.
What was it Callum was always going on about? A destiny you choose? Well, what about a legacy you choose?
Claudia stared at him as he drew the staff back and rested it against his chest.
He spoke low, so only she could hear. He knew he didn’t have to say much; not that he did understand her, that he would do anything for his family, too. That he would do anything for his kingdom. That he understood her better than anyone would ever know. Except, maybe, Corvus.
Because he was here. He was always here.
He had seen Soren in his darkest moment and stayed. Just like Soren would now do for Claudia. He would look her in the eyes, see her, and tell her…
“However dangerous…” he whispered.
She stared at him for a moment. “...however vile,” she replied, her voice barely audible.
He nodded, took a deep breath, and slung the staff across his back the way he had when he’d brought it to his father back in Katolis. When he’d offered his heart for Katolis.
There, in the corner of the war room, was what he was looking for. A Sunforge blade. It would work far better than his own. He hefted it, and it was much lighter than he’d thought it would be. Pushing his hair back from his face so as not to catch it on fire, he closed his eyes and swiped the blade clean through the single remaining horn on his head.
There was a sting of pain, and a gasp from behind him, but when he turned back to the others, blade in one hand, and horn in the other, he only looked at Claudia.
It was unspoken. I understand you better than you think.
He resheathed the blade and placed the horn on the table beside the other ingredients. There was only one thing left to do. Well, two.
He turned to Rayla.
“Rayla, the spell needs…”
“I’ll do it,” she said, with only a moment’s hesitation.
He gave her a sad smile. “The tears of a Moonshadow elf.”
She let out a sound that could have been a laugh but sounded more like a sob. because she was already crying. He could see the tear tracks down her cheeks.
“Well, that’s easy.”
He handed her the vial without a word, and she pressed it to her cheek, letting it fill with tears. Soren looked away, trying not to imagine his mother’s face in her stead.
He wondered if she had given them willingly, to his father. He couldn’t imagine she had.
Or else, why would she have left?
A shaky hand passed the now filled vial back to him, and Soren took it, following Claudia’s instructions carefully as she walked him through the spell. She didn’t ask why he was the one casting it. She understood.
He had to do this. It had to be him.
As they neared the last stage, Claudia tried to usher the others out, but Soren shook his head.
“It’s okay. They can stay.”
She gave him an appraising glance, and he could almost here her saying it. They’ll judge you, for this.
But he shook his head. No, they won’t.
That was what family was, he realized; the people who saw you at your lowest - at your darkest - point, and instead of turning away, walked in to help pull you out. They were the ones who weren’t afraid of the dark because they knew you were in it, and you needed them. Or if they were afraid, they fought through it and helped you fight through it too. They pulled you out of the dark and into the light.
Soren swore that, no matter what happened next, he would wade however deep into the dark as he had to and pull Claudia out with him and into the light.
But first, they had to survive this.
So Soren lifted the staff, and he cast the spell, and he could only imagine that this was what his father had done all those years ago. Because that was their legacy. The legacy he chose.
Not one of death and destruction, of selfish actions and fractured kingdoms.
But of self sacrifice. Of loss and grief and mistakes, yes. But also of love. Of love above all else. Of loving until that was all you were. Because even if that wasn’t good, wasn’t always healthy, it was all he knew how to do. Even if they’d gotten everything else wrong, his family had known how to love.
And when Callum opened his eyes, and Soren had blinked the darkness from his own, he looked down at someone who he thought of as a brother and he told him that it was going to be okay.
“You're gonna be better now,” he whispered, under his breath. “That's all that matters.”
