#make libdo cry

“No,” Libra denied, over and over again. He was crying, “No.” Chrom hadn’t failed him, there was nothing to forgive. The touch might have been uncomfortable but he was dying. There was no retreating from it, and the touch was a comfort. “No, Chrom.” No forgiving, no failing.

And then the pressure on the wound, and Libra cried harder at the extra hurt. It was embarrassing, and shameful, but he’d lost so much on these battlefields, and he just. he wanted to stop, now. “No, please.” He tried to bat Chrom’s hands away but he’d lost a lot of blood, and he was tired.

“Please, no, Chrom, please.” He wanted to see his Brothers, he wanted- he’d tried so hard to be whatever Chrom needed, and he was tired of trying. “No, no. Please.” Eventually he tired too much, and let Chrom do what he would.

He’d let Pent talk, eyes stuck with horrified intensity on the shape of his chest, breaths shallow. His only boon was that it didn’t hurt. Not at all, thought surely it had to, it wasn’t meant to look like that. Maybe his parents had been right, anyone human would be in pain.

He almost laughed, the idea seemed so fitting. Maybe that was the blood loss and the shock talking, but, no. It had to be that the monster in him was finally showing its true form. And he was dying, so the monster was dying, too. Fitting.

“Pent,” he said, with so much brightness that he had to gasp for air for long moments afterward. “It’s okay. I don’t need any.” Rites were for people. “My parents were right. I don’t need any.” And he gasped for air and he continued to bleed, and Libra felt...peaceful.

This was right. He’d always thought dying would be like a fight, panic and desperation and holding on against all odds. But it was. He was okay, he’d been so tired and this was sleep coming for him. How could he fight that? How could he fight that.

Eyes bright with unshed tears, the first hints of despair matching rhythm against his heart, Libra’s fingers scrabbled for purchase in the dirt. “Rites are for people, Pent.” He gasped, thinking of all the lies he’d told. His parents were right. “You’ll tell them....the truth, right? I don’t - no more....lies. Not from-” he couldn’t breathe anymore.

He wasn’t sure where the Risen had come from, but Setsuna was an archer. And it had been so close- he’d just, he’d just moved. Risen fingers were, incredibly sharp, and had torn through the leathers under his monastery’s uniform like they were tissue paper. Little knives angled up towards his heart. And he’d fallen to his knees and gasped, the Risen dissolving into tar and remains once it had been defeated.

Mouth opening and shutting like a beached fish, shock at the blood coming up between his fingers numbing out whatever pain he was feeling.

He startled at Setsuna’s voice, and looked away from spreading red on his stomach to her only visible eye. Is it early for him? He’d never thought of it like that. “Setsuna, you’re okay.” He managed, the hand not at his wound dropping his axe.

“Good...”

“But her leaves are brown.” Libra frets, fingers of one hand ghosting over the wilting leaves even as he reaches for the cup of water he’d nearly dropped with the other. Thankfully, Wolf had been easily fetched, and Libra sagged with relief when after this announcement.

His hands were scraped up pretty badly from a fight, earlier, but it was true. He wasn’t dying, and now he felt really bad for no doubt worrying Wolf. Nothing bad was happening, even if it had felt like the world had ended for just a moment when he’d seen how dead Darling’s leaves looked.

The magic that had sliced into him had blinded him, the world had a dark, purpled haze to it that obscured detail and color and blurred shapes. Cordelia’s voice was clear, though, and he turned towards it despite the pain as the magic raced up his nerves. Like a sunflower following the sun, he thought hysterically.

Libra made a soothing noise, which came out more of a wheeze. Oh Chad, please, don’t be sad. “Shh, it’s okay.” He couldn’t breathe, but it didn’t hurt, so he pushed himself up slowly onto his elbows. Tried to drag in a shuddering breath, but only got half a lungful of air.

He might make it, if the healers got here in time, but they’d been in a remote area, and Libra’s luck was poor.

He couldn’t help but cry, tears spilling thoughtlessly over his cheeks and dripping off his chin. Oh, Naga, I don’t want to leave him alone. What would Calum have said to him, what had Calum said to Libra? The words were there, Calum had given him the words, accidentally.

“Chad, you’re going to be okay.” Libra said, Calum’s ghost fresh in his mind. Another failing attempt to fill his lungs. “I’m so sorry, Chad, but you’ll be okay.” Breathe, Libra, fuck. For the boy, he had to breathe.

There are tears on his face that aren’t his own. It’s so confusing, he can’t remember why - why is Severa crying? There’s blood coming up from between his fingers, where he has them pressed to the heavily bleeding wound under his heart. It doesn’t hurt though, so it can’t be that bad.

Right?

He feels dizzy.

“Don’t cry, Severa?” He says slowly, haltingly. And with no courage at all, because he wasn’t afraid anymore, felt no fear of anything, he put his heavy-feeling hand on her head, fondly. “No more tears.” Not for him, he didn’t deserve them.

It’s easy to smile, despite the blood coating the back of his mouth. Say’ri, dependable Say’ri with her sometimes impossible to understand words that went right over his head and her steady kindness...He wished he could do what she asked, but...

“Sorry,” he managed, and he was. “I’ll try.” But he hurt, and he was so tired. Just, if he could close his eyes for a moment. Eyelids fluttering, he fought the sudden exhaustion so he could brush his fingertips against her knee. “Take care of yourself, okay? Naga watch over...you and...”