Phantom Pains

Chapter Three

" Hold still, okay?" Byleth requested, her hands unwrapping the bandages around Felix's wrist in a long, looping motion. She smiled as she got to his skin, setting aside the soiled dressings in a nearby trashcan. "This looks good! The swelling has gone down so much."

I wouldn't say it looks good... he blinked, taking in the appearance of his injury. His arm was blunted where the hand should be, the flesh on either side of his limb pulled up and around the remnants of wrist bone, thick stitching closing the wound at the tip. There were scorch marks from the fire spell he used in attempts to cauterize himself on the battlefield, the charred skin forming a blackened scab near the stump.

He winced as she dabbed alcohol along the sutures that pursed him together. No matter how many times they went through this routine he still experienced pangs of loss. He looked forward to a day where his arm felt like part of him rather than a troublesome embarrassment. That day, he mused, was not today.

He looked around the room silently as she applied clean gauze to his limb. His dormitory at the monastery was humble—a few bookshelves, a desk, and the cot on which they sat. The newest addition was a makeshift pet bed fashioned from a lump of blankets at the corner of his windowsill. The kitten Sylvain had tasked him with, now named Luna, frequented the spot to bask in the warm rays of summer.

How much longer can I stay here? he wondered, his mind again drifting to home and the responsibilities beckoning him there. The muck of his house's past and an entire territory with his literal name on it was just waiting to drag him down. Here lies Felix, another Fraldarius dead to the chivalric facade of Faerghus, as is custom. He drank his fill of tea and blood until his body cooled in the dirt, thanks to the goddess for her blessings.

Byleth rubbed his wrist gently. "And that's that!" She leaned forward, happy eyes looking for an acknowledgment of a job well done. "Beloved...?" She asked, her voice lowering to his mood.

"Sorry, I just..." he started, he had been avoiding this conversation since before his accident—both with himself and with her. "My...father's estate...I've put it off as long as I can..."

"Then we shall go." She leaned forward, kissing him lightly on the lips, the smell of lavender rising from her hair. He returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her onto his lap. He was silent for a while , his eyes closed as she traced his collarbone. "I've never been to Fraldarius. I would love to see your home." She propped her head against his chest, vocalizing a short hum of contentment.

He rubbed her arm slowly with the stump of his hand, resting his head against hers wordlessly, his royal blue hair falling onto her back. How could he bring her into the Dukedom's messy affairs? His family's abuses and squabbles? Did he dare take her from the end of one war and throw her onto the cusp of his personal one?

"I..." he started, his brow hardening as his mind fumbled for the words. "I didn't have the relationship with my father that you had with Jeralt ." He leaned back a bit, looking down at her, his stare cold with frosty recollection. " Byleth he was...not a good man."

He watched as the professor's head tilted to the side, processing this knowledge. Her gaze shifted away from him, her eyes narrowed in thought. "Is this about Glenn?" She asked. Felix could tell that she was choosing her words carefully.

It's not that simple.

He shook his head, drawing his arms back into her lap, doing his best to ignore the nervous energy prickling in his legs. As bold as he has always been, his father was a looming presence—a source of anxiety and outright disgust. He felt heat rising in his cheeks, the resurfacing anger inside of him making his head buzz.