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His screams wake you from your slumber.
Even with sleep still in your eyes and the downfall of the rain, you can see the panic pressed into the lines of his face, in the way that he runs, and you follow without hesitation despite the bitter cold that waits just outside, despite the exhaustion that clings to you without relent. At first you do not want to admit what waits down by the lake, even though you know the moment that you see the collapsed man, feel the chill of death, do not want to accept it as Erebos crashes beside him, as his lamenting cries reach above the downpour, as they sweep through the sleeping valley.
You do not want to believe it, and yet there is nothing that keeps you from it, nothing that stops the sting of tears as you follow to your friend's side, as you look into a face that you have seen a thousand times and recognize the stillness of death. Your lips part but nothing comes, and instead they press to the skin just behind Erebos' ear, your eyes washing over the body of the man that had been your protector, your Lord, your best friend’s father, and your heart grieves for him, knowing that you can do nothing, even for all your knowledge, all the skill that you have honed, knowing that he died alone; grieves for the boy that sits next to him, aching with each sob that rips from his throat, the discovery of death his to make once more.
You do not have any words for the fallen Lord, even as the crownless wolf returns from the wilds, seemingly unashamed in his abandonment and speaks, lays his pelt across his body, a quiver to his voice that you blame on the rain, as Nox follows with words you do not recognize and Haldir cries with the rest. You wonder if any of them knew him any better than you had when he always felt so incredibly distant, so untouchable and cold. Wonder if they accepted him as he was, if they knew the depths of his loyalties and recognized his love, however unconventional it had been. If they had ever loved him in return. If it is only his death and the way death changes some, makes them see what they could not in his life, that brings them back from the shadows.
Abruptly, you pull away from the group, spinning on thin legs to return to your cavern, grabbing the crown that months before had been woven with autumnal blooms of whites and yellows, though now its gray petals crumble at your touch. It is somehow fitting, though you wish that you had not forgotten, that you had found him on the night that you had made it for. You leave the one that was meant for the prince, turning back into the rain and down to the lakeside.
“I had made it for him and intended to give it to him during the Festival, a reminder of a girl who left flowers in her wake and the crown she had made.” The words are meant only for Erebos as you step beside him, ignoring the rest of the gathered, eyes tracing the lines of Deimos' face slowly, to make sure that you will remember in case everyone else someday forgets.
“I knew who she was to him before he even said her name, introduced her as his daughter; I'd never seen him look at someone like that. Except you. He seemed happy just to have her near.” There is a pause as you smile at the memory before you twist yourself away from it, your head shaking gently.
“But I never found him.”
It is said dismissively, your eyebrows knitting together as you reach to place the band of withered flowers atop his skull, a strange sense of regret penetrating your heart. You dismiss that, too, unwilling to indulge your own sense of loss, of grief, when there is a boy who had the last piece of his fragmented family (his mother and what little you know of her, his sister a ghost haunting the edge of sight, gone the moment one tried to look, his father reduced to a corpse, and still you do not know which is worse—clutching to hopeful unknowns or to see for yourself their demise) torn from him, and you gingerly kiss your King's brow, lingering for moments in final goodbyes.
“I won't pretend that I knew him, at least not as well as I would have liked, but I saw that he was proud of you, Erebos. That there was love every time he looked at you.” You slowly move from him to return to your friend's side, offering comfort when there is once more none to be given to the fracturing prince.
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