Doom Upon All The World

Chapter 36: Mourning

     Tom had gone. They gave him his space, allowing him another night with her before they would need to make burial arrangements but the next morning when they went to check on him, he was gone. Cullen didn't know what to do or how to tell the others so he told Cassandra first. She passed it to Maeve, who as their former leader was used to being the bearer of bad news. She went to all of them individually as it was an odd time to have a gathering. She told them each how Tom had gotten away. They weren't sure what they were going to do but they knew they had to find him. 

     He left but surely he would return, wouldn't he? He had children, a family to care for. Wouldn't that be enough to bring him back? They couldn't know for sure after the way he acted. Cullen never would have said those things. Had Cassandra died after child birth and he was left to care for Anthony and their second child by himself, he would cling to them more dearly being the only pieces of her he had left. To scorn the children for the death of their mother was awful of him. Cullen could not understand how he could do it. When he went in there to find him, acquiring only another glance at Josephine's lifeless corpse he felt that pang of grief in his chest again. He could not imagine how bad it must be for Tom. To have to go through such a thing was awful.

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      Claude could not let go of Olive. She sat in her bed, staring down at the child, the poor girl that would never know their beautifully inspiring mother. She would never be allowed to be held by her, never hear her sweet singing or her ridiculous laugh, never see the resemblance between them, never be dressed up in outrageous Antivan outfits. These were luxuries Claude had been afforded many times but her sisters would never know what it was like to be loved by the woman that birthed them. She had taken those things for granted and regretted it so as she held the little thing tight to her chest.

       "Not so hard, Claude. You'll hurt her." Philippe whispered. He sat beside her in the bed and looked over Olive's features allowing the babe to grip his pinkie finger. This brought tears to Claude's eyes. "I wasn't trying to. I just want her to have Mama and Papa like we did." She cried on her brother's shoulder, spurring a chain reaction. Julien was next as he clung to Pierre. He followed, bursting into tears with his siblings. Their sobs were loud and heart retching. There was no way for any of them to comfort them. The only one that really knew anything about losing their mother was Leliana and she had retreated to her room and made no appearance since Josephine passed. 

      "Papa isn't coming back, Claude. He hates us. He thinks they killed Mama and he hates us." Philippe whispered to her as he pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in his arms. "You don't know that Philippe. He was angry. He will come back." Claude responded hopefully but her twin was still not convinced. He shook his head as tears stained his cheeks. He could not bear to be there any longer, in that room with them, knowing that they had such false hope. He knew their father would not return. He was too broken, too lost without her. Mama had once told him that Papa was a fragile man. He was quiet and firm but he held a very frail heart in his chest. The tiniest chip could tear him apart.

       This was the chip. This was the straw that broke the camel's back. He remembered yesterday when he'd gone in to bring Mama some water. She wouldn't be able to keep it down of course but he wanted to see her and it was the only way he knew how to do so. She'd turned to Tom and taken his hand. "Would you be a dear a fetch Leliana for me, Tom?" She asked in her raspy, aching voice and put on a false, unmanageable smile. It broke and she lapsed into a fit of coughs. The sight brought tears to Philippe's eyes. He couldn't stand to see her so sick. He had never seen anyone so sick. 

     Tom nodded, kissing her sweaty forehead and going to find her friend. He did so hesitantly but did it nonetheless because he loved her. He left the room and Josephine beckoned for Philippe to come over. She took his little hands in hers and he felt the terrible shock of cold that filled her viens. She was freezing but she smiled at him still. "You are the oldest, the most mature, the most well rounded. The others need you." She mumbled to him, her voice coming out starved and quaking. "If I don't get better, Love, I need you to take care of your brothers and sisters. Take care of your father. They need a strong shoulder to lean on and you, Philippe, have always been the strongest. Can you do this for me?" She asked as she squeezed his hands as hard as she could. It was not much due to her weakness but it still made him wince. Was it the pain or the words?