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It had been five days since Felix’s return with Prince Dimitri to the capital. My father mentioned their swift suppression of the recent rebellion at dinner after he received a letter from His Highness. I was surprised when they visited me today, although I wasn’t notified until a few hours after they arrived, despite being their friends since forever. Perhaps the adults are afraid of my reaction should I meet Felix, especially after Glenn…departed from us. For the past year or so, I’ve spent most of my time in my room reminiscing, reading, or daydreaming. Even now, I feel that Glenn’s ghost guides my direction. When I look upon the armor stored in the warehouse, worn by previous Galatea pegasus knights, I see in its reflections a version of myself, donning that armor, that is more gallant and braver than today—someone like him, yet completely different all at once.
When my father told me of Felix and His Highness’s arrival, I took some moments to tidy my tangled hair and to wash the eyebags from my face. I told myself that whatever news they may bring, I’ve already been through worse.
They were waiting in the living room. His Highness approached me with warm greetings and a gentle smile. However, something else caught my attention: he was limping. His right leg was unsteady and he walked with much difficulty, shifting most of his weight to his left. He explained that he fell off a horse on the way back home, and the medic told him that it’s merely a sprained ankle. After offering some tea, we resumed chatting for a bit.
Felix, on the other hand, was starkly quiet. He sat onto the couch with his arms crossed, glowering at the floor. When I caught a glimpse of him, the demeanor reminded me of Glenn, even though I know I’m not supposed to. I suppressed the thought immediately, holding back the tears welling in my eyes.
Felix is my friend.
I noticed that something was wrong when Felix didn’t greet me like he used to. His brow was furrowed and he wore a scowl throughout the whole visit. He refused to interact with the Prince throughout our conversations. Perhaps he and His Highness had an argument during the suppression efforts, but I know that both of them are not the type to hold grudges for long, over a few days. I suddenly felt like I didn’t know him at all. That somehow, the boy facing me was not the loving and sweet Felix I’ve always known. We used to play pretend with Sylvain and venture into the Fraldarius gardens to slay make-believe dragons and claim glistening treasures. He has never been loud or energetic, but he was always enthusiastic to play.
No…I can’t expect him to recover from Duscur now, not when I couldn’t either.
I tried to integrate him into our conversation (about Sylvain’s family, if I recall correctly). I didn’t want him to feel left out, as I know company helps in the darkest of times. I asked him what he thinks of Miklan’s crestlessness—whether it was a curse or a blessing. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably before replying in an aloof and harsh tone, “Stop wasting your breath. Don’t sound happy when you’re not.”
I felt a mixture of emotions boiling within me. Anger, sadness, concern…I couldn’t put them all into words. I wanted to yell something, but my mouth went dry. I found myself unable to reprimand him. Everything else, including Prince Dimitri, seemed to blur into the background as he gave one long look to me. Those eyes were filled with not remorse, wrath, or bitterness, but fear. I couldn’t identify the origins of it. I searched those eyes in a desperate attempt to understand him, but only a pair of amber flinty eyes glared back.
The rest of the afternoon was muddled in my head. I found it hard to focus on the Prince’s conversations. Felix continued to ignore us, even when prompted. He would mutter something about a boar prince under his breath when the Prince tried interacting with him. Eventually, when the horses were well-rested, they decided to leave before the sunset.
The look in Felix’s eyes when he visited still haunts me as I write.