my angel my baby boy my radiant light i love u so so soooo much!! i love u!!!
after a battle, a fight — a victory treasured within the army and the job of healing wounds would be left to a prince with a kind heart. it is a duty he would take pride in. whilst others would risk their lives, foleo stays back; he ensures each warrior can return in the end with little injury. it is a crucial key to the pyrrhic victories that come with war. it is as vital to keep signs of the same name going. useful, as he wished to be to his parents. irreplaceable.
charlotte comes in with wounds so great that it worries him intensely. she is moving, barely, struggling to climb into the bed of the medical bay even with assistance by her son’s hands. blood stains into his clothes / normally, he would be upset, but his fears and unsteady hands overcame it. foleo shakes as he bandages wounds, heals with a stave to cover what he can, works his hardest so she may live another day. a horror of war which even he couldn’t have expected — it was by his request that he come. was he a fool to? or was this his destiny, fate allowing him to change the fate of his dearest mother?
as treatment comes to an end, it’s a relief that she would live another day. he’s put at ease as she lays there, peacefully, a chance to surely heal further as the extent of his abilities for the day couldn’t allow complete erasure of injury. it’s all he can do. perhaps it really would have been better for him to have stayed in a deeprealm, to age further than his parents and grow old before they could ever hope to raise him. it’s as if fate tells foleo to run through the turning in his stomach and the tightness in his throat that he hadn’t even realized was there until he could relax. almost as if running away from this sight that he should be used to, he stands abruptly and is about to leave. a gentle hand stops him, grabbing his wrist.
“ mother? ” he’d thought she was asleep — her eyes had been closed, a blanket now covering her to prevent the cold; it was a hoshidan superstition that if you slept with your stomach exposed, you would wake with sickness. foleo was stopped in his tracks, confused, almost fearful of what she might say. would she tell him to leave? would she tell him to return to the home away from home, where he’d likely never see them again? he trembles in her grasp, as if preparing himself for a negative response, prepared to be informed he wasn’t ready and that he should keep himself safe in a world without war. he’s prepared when she beckons him closer to her bedside…
but instead, he’s given a hug so sweet that tears kept back couldn’t help but fall. the words she says bring a piece of mind that he hadn’t expected to ever feel so soon — his mother loves him, sees him as her son and is so genuine with it that he freezes within the embrace. arms unsure of where to go, shock so blatant that it could bring worry. it is a face of someone who was lonely and afraid / it melts into sobs and a return of familial affection. he wanted to hear those words so bad, to know that his parents care and that they’re happy that he was with them. this was a message that was well - received as he doesn’t leave her bedside until he’s certain she’s asleep, holding her hand and talking with her all the while.
when she does, even the boy couldn’t help but feel tired from the stress and extensive chatting. instead, he lays forward, sleeping on the stool at her side so he’d be there when she wakes up. foleo was thankful for his mother.
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