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He’d nearly forgotten to place the coins on his father’s eyes. Rising slowly from his chair, he hesitantly made his way to the cot where the body lay as he rummaged through his coat pocket for the coins he kept there for this exact purpose. He never thought he’d use them for his own father, but life was funny like that. With trembling hands, Felix lifted the sheet from his father’s face and gently placed a coin on each eye - eyes that would never open again, eyes that would never study him and seemingly pierce right through him. He shuddered at the thought and quickly pulled the sheet back up.
To say the Battle at Gronder Field was a disaster was such an understatement that it probably ended up in “outright lie” territory. They were all paying the price for their recklessness now. Lord Rodrigue had paid with his life.
From outside the tent, he could hear the wind howling harshly, as if the Goddess herself was angry with how things had gone down. The occasional crash of thunder in the distance only added to the gloominess and despair of it all. Felix chose not to believe in ghosts, but if he did, then tonight was probably a good night for them to come out.
It’ll probably rain soon, he thought to himself as he sat back down, not minding the bowl of stew Ingrid and Sylvain had left for him when they stopped by. Nearly everyone else had stopped by, since he refused to leave the tent, not even when the healers performed some embalming spell to keep the body safe and preserved for the journey back.
The Professor was first, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and assuring him that there would be a proper ceremony when they returned to the Monastery. She did not bring up the death of her own father five years ago in an attempt to empathize with him.
Sylvain and Ingrid were next. Ingrid brought him the stew, and Sylvain half-heartedly offered to spar with him. He only shook his head at them, so Sylvain offered to set up Felix’s tent. Before they left, they promised they would all get through the war together.
Ashe, Annette, and Mercedes soon followed. Mercedes invited him to join in a little prayer for Lord Rodrigue’s soul. He’d politely refused, but the offer was tempting, if only for the sake of closure. He’d never been particularly devout, so if the Goddess was listening to them, he thought it would be best for Mercedes to do all the talking for them. Ashe, who knew the pain of losing two different fathers, said nothing, and Annette gave his shoulder a light squeeze, probably to let him know that everyone else was there for him.
Now that the shock of it all was gone, Felix was almost surprised to feel numb. He was bitter and angry when Glenn died, but now, he just felt empty. The space within him that burned with a white hot rage after Glenn died was now filled with a dull, gnawing ache. There was no one to be angry with. Not the boar prince, and certainly not his own father.
The thunderclaps seemed to be getting closer now.
He felt a chilling breeze behind him, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to shoot up, but he didn’t have it in him to turn around and see what caused it. It might have just been the wind.
“Oh, Felix, I didn’t realize you’d still be in here,” a small voice squeaked from behind him. He turned his head and saw Annette standing at the entrance of the tent, a makeshift bouquet of white flowers in hand.
“I don’t feel like being anywhere else,” he shrugged listlessly and eyed the flowers. “What brings you here?”
“I, uh, well…” she stammered and stared at her muddy boots. “Did your father like flowers?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m sorry, this was silly,” she sighed and kicked at the dirt. “I just saw these flowers near my tent, and I thought maybe I should bring them here. But I don’t even know if he likes flowers, or-”
“I’m sure he liked them well enough,” he replied. “And even if he didn’t, I’m in no position to ask him.”
She blanched at his words and her blue eyes started to dart around with a frantic and frightened energy. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that - I should go. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he mumbled. “You don’t have to leave yet. I’m sure he would’ve liked the flowers.” He may not have liked them if he knew they were for him, he thought morbidly, and it almost made him chuckle.
She nodded solemnly and hesitantly made her way to the cot. With a gentle touch, she placed the flowers on Lord Rodrigue’s chest before bowing her head. “Do you want to be alone for now, Felix?” she asked softly.
He exhaled deeply, unsure of how he felt. There was no turmoil within him, only a void of nothingness. “I thought I did, but now I’m not sure. Do you want to stay?”
“I’ll stay if you want me to stay.”
He nodded at that and closed his eyes for a second. “Please do, even if just for a moment. But I can’t imagine I’d be good company right now.”
“I’ll stay as long as you need me to,” she gave him a small smile and slid into the empty seat beside him. Her eyes widened a bit when she saw the untouched bowl of stew on the table before them. “You haven’t eaten?”
“I’m not hungry.”
The corners of her mouth turned down in a tiny frown. “It’s been a long day, Felix. You should eat, even just a bite or two.”
His lungs deflated with an exhale and he uncrossed his arms. He really didn’t feel like eating, but in the back of his mind, he knew she was right. With a spiritless grunt, he straightened up in the chair and took the bowl from the table. Her eyes narrowed, watching as he stabbed at a chunk of meat with a fork and popped it into his mouth. Out of courtesy more than any primal need, he finished the stew, all while she hadn’t taken her eyes off him.
“Hmm, maybe you were hungry,” she mused quietly.
He gave another half-hearted shrug, and as if on cue, another thunderclap shattered their silence. A few seconds later, there was the light tapping of rain against the canvas of the tent.
“We should go now,” Felix said as the two rose from their seats. “I don’t want to keep you in this place while a storm rages on. Let me walk you back to your tent.”
He gave the body a quick check to make sure the coins were still there before shaking his coat off and handing it to her. “It’s raining,” he said simply when she raised an eyebrow at him. She took the coat from him and slipped it on. It was much too large for her. Her hands vanished into the sleeves, and the bottom hem nearly reached her knees. He felt a smile forming on his lips despite himself, and he couldn’t stop it in time. For a second, her gaze met his, and her cheeks flashed a dull shade of pink.
After they left the tent, the two of them walked a bit in the drizzling rain, trying to get away from the most gruesome reminder of the battle. “That’s your tent. Sylvain saw me on my way in and told me to tell you, in case you felt like sleeping tonight,” she said.
He spared it a glance. It was very neatly put up, much neater than any tent Sylvain had ever built, so he assumed that Ingrid probably took over once she saw how Sylvain was faring. It was also set up a short walk away from any other tents, another detail he appreciated. He nodded at her words, and the rain seemed to get stronger.
“Where’d you set up?” he asked loudly, struggling to make himself heard over the noise of the rain starting to come down in earnest.
She pointed (he assumed; he couldn’t actually see her hands enveloped by the sleeves of his coat) in some general direction. “That way. On the other side of camp, with Ashe and Mercie.”
Another peal of thunder shook the air, and Felix shook his head. “I’m not letting you walk in this weather; you’re going to get sick. Maybe you can stay in my tent, at least until this rain clears up.”
Her blue eyes blinked the rainwater out and she nodded eagerly. “Yeah, that sounds fine. I don’t want to go back to... you know.”
He nodded at that - now that he was out, he didn’t want to go back there either. Almost without thinking, he wrapped an arm around her and led her to his tent. He scanned his surroundings with a furtive glance before lifting the entrance flap and letting her in.
There was an uneasy pang in his heart as he watched her shrug out of his coat and hand it back to him. He dumped it in a heap at the foot of his bedroll.
“Mind if I sit?” she asked, absent-mindedly twirling a strand of orange hair.
He only nodded at that and watched as she took a seat on his bedroll. She patted the space beside her and gave him a subtle smile. “Won’t you sit with me? It’s your tent, after all.”
“No, that’s quite alright, I…” he trailed off when he saw her pout at his words. He sighed and relented, taking a seat beside her. Outside, the rain only seemed to get stronger.
“I don’t mean to pry,” she said softly. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I saw the coins a while ago, when you checked on him before we left. Did you place those there?”
“Ohh, those,” he replied flatly. “It’s a silly thing, you don’t need to worry yourself over it.”
She nodded understandingly, and he instinctively reached for his pocket, only to find nothing. He started at that and frantically reached for his coat at the foot of his bed. Upon feeling the familiar weight and coldness of the coins in the pocket, he let out a deep sigh of relief, a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in.
“Felix, are you okay?” her eyes widened at his sudden movements.
He sighed again. “It’s the coins,” he mumbled and turned to meet her gaze. “When I was younger, my father told me this story from long ago. When someone passes from this life, there’s a man who brings their soul to the goddess. The coin is the soul’s fare for safe passage into… whatever’s next,” he shook his head morosely. “It’s silly, I know. I just thought…”
She placed a hand on his knee. “I don’t think it’s silly,” she whispered. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
He fumbled again for his coat. “Here, you should take this,” he muttered as he reached into the pocket and felt for the cold metal between his fingertips. With his heart thumping louder than the thunder around them, he fished out a coin and pressed it into her hands. “It would make me feel better if I knew you had this with you,” his face burned.
Her eyes widened in shock as she closed her fist around the coin, hit with the sudden weight of his words. “Felix, I-”
“I can’t keep everyone safe,” he said matter-of-factly, his voice calm and even despite the storm within. “With the way things are going, the boar is going to lead us straight-”
She shushed him softly, placing a finger against his lips. His eyes widened at that, her touch bringing a new warmth to him. He recoiled slightly, and she jerked her hand back, blushing at the sudden contact. “Sorry,” she smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
He stared at her and desperately found himself craving her touch again. With a shake of his head, he tried to fight off the urge to embrace her and keep her safe from all the ugliness of war. “It’s alright,” was all he managed to say.
“War is horrible, and I hope we never have to fight another one,” she said glumly. “But you shouldn’t bear your burden alone. We’ll all work together, okay? To keep everyone safe, as much as we can.”
“Do you really believe that we can win this?”
She gave him a sad little smile, which sent another shiver down his spine. “Well, I’ve got to. Some days, hope is all we have.”
“Hope,” he repeated to himself.
She opened her hand to show him the coin he gave her. “I’ll hold onto this for now, if it’ll make you feel better. That’s all I want right now.”
He raised an eyebrow. “A coin?”
At first she just stared at him like he had grown a second head. And then she laughed. It was such a beautiful sound, despite the decidedly ugly circumstances they had found themselves in. It cut through the rain and settled itself into Felix’s chest, and he felt his face warming, even with the chilly air.
“No, not the coin. I want you to feel better,” she giggled as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing right now.”
“No, it’s quite alright,” he stared at his feet, hoping that the dim light of the tent could hide the emotions on his face. “It’s nice to hear you laugh.”
Her bright blue eyes widened at his words, and in the dark he could almost swear she was blushing. She opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by another peal of thunder, and she nearly jumped.
“Some storm, huh?” she offered lamely once she regained her composure.
“Some days I feel like a storm,” he breathed.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
“I guess so,” he sighed. “I’m a warrior at heart. Always have been, always will be. It’s a consequence of my choices that I bring death and destruction with me. Storms like these, they are violent and unrelenting. The storm passes on without a care for others, and when it clears, there’s a mess to be cleaned up,” he muttered angrily. “I’m just a storm that never leaves.”
She shook her head sadly at that. “I don’t think that’s true. Sure, there are some days where there will be storms, but sometimes, you’re like sunshine!”
He almost wanted to laugh at that. “Me? Sunshine? You must have me mistaken for someone else.”
“Well, you may not have the sunniest disposition, but sunshine makes me happy.”
He raised a quizzical eyebrow at her. “I don’t get it.”
Her cheeks flushed a bit and she gave him a tiny smile. “Well maybe one day you will.”
He nodded dumbly at that, trying but failing to understand her words. Still, being with her was a good escape, although he noticed that the emptiness inside was slowly being replaced by the cloying, sickly feeling of longing. He wasn’t sure which one was worse. “If I died, I’d bring this weather with me,” he mumbled.
Her jaw dropped in shock, and she gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “Don’t say things like that, Felix.”
“There’d be no more storms,” he sighed softly and shook his head.
“But you’d take the sunshine with you as well,” was her only reply.
There was a companionable silence as Felix tried to make heads or tails of her words, of how he of all people could be anyone’s sunshine. On any other day he would’ve thought she was joking.
“I wish it wasn’t raining right now,” she said absent-mindedly. “On nights like these, I like to look at the stars.”
He looked up to meet her gaze and fought every instinct within him screaming at him to turn away. “The stars?”
“Yep!” she beamed. “We’re all like stars in the sky.”
“We shimmer then decay before vanishing into the dark?”
“No, not in that sense. We all have our own lights within us, and we’re all a part of some bigger picture. Plus, we’re never alone, not when there are so many other stars in the sky,” she patted his knee affectionately. He blinked slowly, trying to push back the desire for something as simple as touch.
“My father liked looking at the stars,” he turned to her. “Back when Glenn and I were younger, he’d take us up to his study, which had this balcony. We’d just watch the night sky, watch the stars. I was too young to remember, but he always said that Mother loved the stars, too,” his voice started to catch in his throat. “He used to say that there were no brighter stars than those in her eyes,” he paused. “And now they’re all gone,” his voice broke and he hopelessly tried to blink away the tears. “I’m all alone now.”
“Felix,” she said softly, and he found himself wrapped in her embrace. He tried so hard to stay still, to resist the urge to remove himself from her. He could feel himself melting in her touch, and he let out a choked sob. “You’re not alone, Felix,” she whispered with a little quiver in her voice. “We’re all here with you. And those we loved, they’re never really gone. We can always look at the night sky and know that they are safe within the embrace of the stars.”
He whispered her name into her shoulder. “Annette, can I stay like this? Even if just for a moment?”
She stroked his hair lightly, and he found himself shaking at her touch. “As long as you need to,” she whispered back. Despite the shaking in her voice, she hummed out a simple tune that sent shockwaves through him and lulled him to sleep. As he drifted off, sweet words flitted through his ears and into his heart. “You don’t have to be alone, Felix.”
His eyes creaked open at the sound of a new day just outside his tent. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and it sent a little jolt of electricity through his nerves to find an arm splayed out across his chest. He slowly turned his head to find a certain mage asleep beside him. The faintest smile formed on his lips as he sat up and saw the little peeks of sunlight breaking through the entrance of his tent.
He promised himself he wouldn’t take the sunshine with him.