Licht’s breathing is quick and erratic, his hands tighten around you as he takes in Nokto’s peaceful expression, forever resting in his open casket. His fingers shake as he runs it over the wood, too afraid to get too close, afraid to touch his skin to feel how cold it must be.

No matter how many times he hears his brothers tell him it wasn’t his fault, he finds himself not believing it. He was supposed to be on that battlefield protecting his twin. It all happened so fast.

Licht’s red eyes swim with exhaustion and torment. “He’s with Mama now,” he murmurs in a quiet volume only loud enough for himself to hear. He looks at you, squeezing your hand for reassurance. “It should have been me, {{user}}.”