Because all the cool kids write for canon

Soren was not particularly prone to the effects of stress, but preparing to face a goddess was bringing even him close to breaking point. He had faced all kinds of opponents in the past, but at least those enemies had all been mortal; he had no idea what to expect from Ashera. Plans had to be made for every possible scenario, everyone's weapons needed to be in perfect shape, and an assessment needed to be made of every member of the army, to best choose who would join the final battle. And all the while the Tower of Guidance loomed ominously behind him, reminding Soren that he had very little time in which to organize it all.

It was for this reason that Soren was far from pleased when he was stopped on his way to count the company's remaining funds.

“You, wait.”

The voice that spoke to him was Micaiah's, but the moment he looked up Soren knew it was not she who had addressed him.

“Yune,” he said curtly, “do you need something of me?”

“You are the boy who is usually with Ike, yes? The one who plans his battles?” Her voice contained no remorse; Soren wondered if she had not understood the annoyance in his voice, or if she simply chose to ignore it.

“I'm Soren,” he answered, still irritated, “and yes, I am Ike's tactician.”

“Good!” she exclaimed, “You seem smart, for a mortal-thing. I was hoping you could explain to me about love.”

A slight pause was the only physical indication of Soren's surprise. “I thought you were Ashera's emotions. And you don't know what love is?”

“Oh no, no!” Yune cried, evidently shocked he would even suggest such a thing. “I know what love is. But I do not understand what you flesh-creatures do with it.”

Soren remained silent, and as he had hoped, Yune took the hint to elaborate further.

“I was speaking with Micaiah about Sothe, and mentioned that she was in love with him, but she seemed to become very embarrassed and stopped speaking to me. I tried talking to Sothe about it, but suddenly Micaiah became very angry, and even threatened to no longer let me in her body! Why would she act like that?”

Soren was baffled that Yune would interrupt his preparations for such a ridiculous question, but he assessed the situation and decided that answering would be the quickest way to get rid of her.

After a moment of careful thought, Soren gave his answer. “People are... illogical, often pathetic creatures. They are governed by fear above all else. They are afraid to admit when they are in love, in case of rejection, either by the person they care for, or the society they belong to.”

“But you are different?” It was not a facetious question; Yune seemed genuinely curious.

“I am certainly not what most would consider normal,” Soren answered somewhat bitterly, “and I do not belong to any particular society, if that is what you mean.”

Yune seemed greatly encouraged by this answer. “Then you would not mind talking to me about the fact that you are in love with Ike.”

She spoke so casually, and made the statement with such ease that it took a moment for the gravity of the words to reach Soren. And when they finally did, he found himself in a situation he was entirely unused to; he was at a complete loss for words. Suddenly, all he could think about was how much he hoped no one else was in earshot.

He had no idea what his expression looked like, but it must have shown his mix of befuddlement and horror, because Yune almost immediately responded.

“You do not wish to speak of it either?” Her voice held a clear note of disappointment, as well as a hint of irritation. “Why? You said yourself that you belong to no society, and surely you can see that he loves you as well.”

Soren was determined to salvage his dignity, but it was phenomenally hard to come up with a coherent response with the sound of his erratic heartbeat pounding in his ears. “It's... not that simple,” he finally managed, feeling he had done a commendable job of sounding calm, given the situation. “Beorc and laguz are both taught at a young age that there are only certain people they can love, and to go outside that is... wrong. It is to go against the goddess herself.”

“That's silly!” Yune said in an almost childlike fashion. “Who is it wrong to love?”

“Well,” Soren continued, feeling calmer now that he could focus on something other than his powerful affection for his commander, “first of all, we are only to love within our own species. It is strictly forbidden for a beorc and laguz to join.”

“Oh, I remember now,” Yune commented, “I was told that before, by the strange man with the green hair. The not-quite-beorc.” She thought for a moment before continuing. “Is that why you are afraid? Because you are like him, but Ike is a full-blooded beorc?”

“That... isn't all,” Soren said, becoming flustered again now that the conversation had returned to his personal life. “We are also taught that it is wrong to have such feelings for someone who is... the same gender as us.”

“Really?” Soren was almost sickened by how absolutely shocked Yune was. “Why?”

“We are told it is the will of Ashera,” Soren said bitterly, feeling his hatred toward humanity as a whole flaring up inside of him, burning away the humiliation of mere seconds ago.

“That's odd,” Yune commented thoughtfully, “I wonder when such rules were created. Ashunera gave love to the creatures as a gift, to be cherished by all. She never wished for any restrictions.”

Evidently Yune did not expect a response, for she did not allow Soren time to give one before she spoke again.

“Oh well, I suppose I will never understand you short-lived beings. I must go now, Micaiah is upset with me for speaking to you about such matters.”

Apparently Yune was also unaccustomed to the idea of saying goodbye, for she turned and left without another word.

Soren was left to ponder over their conversation, the upcoming battle temporarily forgotten. Finally he shook his head, deciding he would never understand goddesses any more than they understood him.

But he did know that next time he visited Ike's tent, he needed to speak with him about more than just battle plans.