This is part of my Of Hawks, Ravens and Herons series. Chronologically, this takes place a long time after Waiting.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem or any characters therein.

Warnings: m/m sex, angst, fleeting mentions of past Tibarn/Naesala/Reyson.

The forest is always filled with song these days. Leanne's children sing beautifully and they can even tempt Lehran out to listen. Lehran never sings with them; he's the only heron that doesn't. Reyson does on occasion, but his songs feel raw in his throat, and his nieces and nephews always look at him curiously, wondering why Reyson's voice isn't as beautiful as it should be.

Reyson hasn't the heart to tell them why.

They are a tangle of wings on the bed, sheets haphazardly wrapped around their legs. Reyson presses his wings against the bed and moves gently. Fingers comb through his hair and feathers and he shudders because they're not the right fingers.

"I know, Reyson," Lehran murmurs into his ear, "I know." Lehran shifts slightly, drawing a quiet moan from Reyson, and his fingers massage at the base of Reyson's wings. Lehran's own wings must ache, trapped as they are against the bed, but he doesn't complain. He simply holds Reyson close and moves with him, arching gracefully into Reyson's touch and holding him close. Lehran doesn't even seem to mind Reyson crying on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Reyson whispers through his tears, "I'm sorry."

"Shhh." Lehran wipes away Reyson's tears, fingers gentle on Reyson's face. "I know."

Reyson shudders against Lehran and he wants to collapse on him, but Lehran isn't Tibarn or Naesala so Reyson rolls away instead. He pauses for a second before his hands go to Lehran and he touches without really looking until Lehran's breath hitches and his wings tremble. Lehran rolls over after and reaches out to touch Reyson's face.

"I..." Reyson begins.

"I know," Lehran replies. "I know."

It's not a regular thing. It could never be a regular thing. But every so often, Reyson will find himself lingering outside Lehran's home and the older heron will open the door to him. Lehran's smiles never quite reach his eyes. He's always gentle and he never pushes for anything. His words aren't of comfort; he never says that it will get better. But he knows. He knows what it feels like to lose someone important. He knows better than most.

Afterwards, they never talk. They lie together, sometimes even fall asleep together, but they don't talk. What is there to say? If it hurts to merely think about what they've both lost, then Reyson can't think talking will help much either. Lehran has probably said it all before anyway, to other loves and other lovers, and Reyson doesn't love Lehran. He cares for him – they are kin after all – but he doesn't love him. Reyson can't say what Lehran thinks of him, but he catches him sometimes, looking at Leanne and Rafiel and Lorazieh, and Lehran wears an expression of such fragile happiness that Reyson thinks Lehran must love them. Perhaps it's just to see other herons, alive and in their forest again, but it makes him happy. Even though his smile is still tinged with sadness, he is happy.

It began suddenly, and Reyson doesn't like to think about that first time. It hadn't been good in the slightest and Reyson had tried to flee in the middle of the night. He hadn't gone very far before Lehran woke up and guided him back to the bed. They hadn't really slept much that night, and when morning came their conversation had been stilted at best. They hadn't spoken again for several weeks, although Lehran had obviously tried to. He hadn't wanted to talk, had wanted to pretend it had never happened even though the memories were seared into his mind. Reyson broke eventually, and went back to Lehran. Their second time had been rough – like Naesala liked it – and Reyson had apologised profusely afterwards, almost unable to believe what he'd done.

"It doesn't matter," Lehran had said, and that had been the end of it. He'd stretched one of his wings over Reyson and they'd fallen asleep together.

After that it had been better; they'd learnt each other, slowly but surely, and it became easier. It wasn't perfect, but it was good. As good as it could be, anyway. Sometimes Reyson will be hit by a pang of conscience and will spend as many days as he can in Begnion, meeting with officials and ambassadors and the latest Empress. But he always comes back, and their touches are always that much less restrained when he does.

Reyson tells himself he is coping.

"When I first lost Altina," Lehran begins one day, "I thought I would die. Our daughter was only a few weeks old, and I had lost my voice and my forest. I had to lose her too; we feared that the people would rise up against us if they found out I was... reduced."

Reyson doesn't look at Lehran, but he tenses slightly. "It must have been difficult," he says, but the words feel hollow and empty on his lips.

Lehran pauses before he continues. "I fled with the dragons, late at night; we flew to Goldoa, and I could barely see anything. I could hear her though, crying behind me. I never saw her again. Deghinsea locked me in my room for her funeral." Lehran took a deep, shuddering breath beside Reyson before continuing. "We received information of the outside world slowly. Begnion didn't want much to do with Goldoa, and Goldoa wanted even less to do with Begnion. But the news I did receive... it was not what I had hoped. It took me centuries to work up the courage to leave Goldoa – I could hardly face a world without Altina in it, but the laguz needed me."

"I imagine they did," Reyson replies, trying not to think about it. The herons had been largely free, beloved as they were by the goddess, but that didn't mean a few humans hadn't captured them when they'd been able to.

"The things I saw those first few years," Lehran continues, "would have turned the stomachs of even the least laguz friendly beorc now. Did you ever wonder how there came to be so many Branded?" Lehran glances at Reyson and Reyson feels sick at the implication clear in Lehran's eyes. "Once their powers were gone, they were cast aside. If they were lucky, they made it to Gallia or Phoenicis, but the free laguz didn't care much for powerless laguz. Their offspring generally had a better chance at life than they did; unless the Brand was particularly visible, if it even appeared, they could live as beorc. Some even had good lives, I dare say, but that didn't change where they came from."

"Was that..." Reyson pauses, and tries to find the words. "Do you think that was how Zelgius...?"

A smile appears on Lehran's face, and it is so achingly sad and broken that Reyson longs to look away. "Yes," Lehran murmurs, "yes, I believe that is how Zelgius came to be Branded. I never told him, but he knew. He was..." Lehran looks away. "It matters not. I was alone then, as you are now. There had been a scant handful of people since Altina. A few dragons during my stay in Goldoa, and when I came to Begnion I could not let them see my wings. I dared not go to Phoenicis – or even Kilvas, when it came. It was too obvious what I wasn't to the laguz, and too obvious what I was to the beorc. I needed someone. The loneliness eats at you eventually, becomes crippling in its intensity and then you reach out to whoever's there."

"That's what we're doing, isn't it?" Reyson asks dryly.

"I suppose it is," Lehran replies, smiling wryly.

They fall silent then, before falling asleep, half wrapped around each other.

Tibarn and Naesala are gone and they're never coming back. It has been too long now, Reyson thinks. Far, far too long.

"I think I'm going to travel again," Reyson says to Lehran one day. Neither of them have aged much; Leanne's oldest son – a raven, although he's more like a heron in temperament – looks older than they do.

"Are you asking me to join you?" Lehran asks, looking out over the forest.

"Will you? I would like the company," Reyson replies.

Lehran nods, once, and they both set off to pack their bags.

Reyson doesn't know where they'll go, or what they'll see, but he knows he'll be back. Just not for a while.

Thanks for reading.

Rethira