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Ephraim has a problem. And it’s not just that the love of his life is dead. It’s the fact that he sees Lyon everywhere, talking to him like he’s alive. And he can’t be sure if it’s his ghost or just his delusional brain coping with something he doesn’t want to accept.
They couldn’t find his body for the funeral. The hopeful part of Ephraim’s brain tells him Lyon must still be out there, but the more logical part knows it was destroyed by the Demon King. Forde was able to paint a portrait of Lyon, with Ephraim hovering over his shoulder, correcting every detail. He had a Lyon no one else could see lingering near him at all times, so it was easy to spot the differences.
“I didn’t think you would mourn me,” ghost/imaginary Lyon says as Ephraim stands over his empty casket. Everyone’s getting a chance to say goodbye. Except Ephraim, it seemed. He wouldn’t really say goodbye until this Lyon left him.
“I’m here, am I not?” Ephraim said. His voice was quiet, though there weren’t many people around the casket to wonder why he was talking to himself. There weren’t a lot of people left that really knew Lyon enough to say goodbye. There was Ephraim, of course, and Eirika. Duessel and Knoll. Pretty much everyone else that knew him personally was gone. Grado’s people were here to mourn their prince, but they didn’t know the real Lyon. No one knew him like Ephraim did.
“Well, it would be pretty empty if you weren’t,” Lyon said with a self-deprecating smile. Ephraim hated the way he saw himself. He knew trying to convince this Lyon that he was worth loving was pointless, because the real Lyon was gone, but Ephraim couldn’t stop himself.
“Because we’re in Renais,” Ephraim said, looking down into the empty casket. “They’re holding funerals throughout Grado for you.”
“Mourning a prince, not a person.” Lyon shook his head.
“Are you real?” Ephraim asked for the hundredth time. Lyon just shrugged.
“How should I know?”
Exhausted, Ephraim stepped away from the casket. Lyon followed him, no one else taking notice of the walking dead prince.
“Hey, how are you doing?” Eirika asked softly, touching Ephraim’s arm.
“Just want to be alone,” he said, brushing past her and walking up the stairs to his room. He felt a little bad for ignoring her on a day that was surely hard for her too, but he was sure he would understand. They hadn’t loved Lyon in the same way.
As soon as he got to his room he fell down face-first on the bed, exhausted. The funeral had taken more energy than he thought it would. Being around people most days was fine for him, but with Lyon heavy on everyone’s mind, it felt like a crushing weight. Everyone was looking at him, saying things he didn’t want to hear. Or, really, that he didn’t want Lyon to hear.
“No one knew Lyon like you did.”
“His highness adored you, you know.”
“He was so lucky to have you as a friend.”
Ephraim wasn’t so sure any of the things they said were true. He felt like, at the end, he hadn’t really known Lyon at all. He didn’t see his jealousy and insecurities like he should’ve. If he had, maybe things would have ended differently.
And that made him think of the one thought he could never shake: it was his fault Lyon was dead.
“Don’t look so sad, Ephraim,” Lyon said, walking over to his bedside. “I’m a villain, after all.”
“No,” Ephraim said. He was choking back tears, and his voice sounded a lot less self-assured than it usually did. He wished he had shown Lyon this side of him when he was alive. Showed him that the oh-so-great Ephraim was nothing but a scared little boy without him.
“Well I guess you got what you wished for. I’m still around, right? And I can’t do much harm like this.” Lyon smiled weakly. Ephraim turned on his side to face him.
“Like what?” he asked. “Like a ghost? Like a figment of my grief-stricken imagination? What are you, Lyon?” He reached out to touch the other boy, but stopped himself before his fingers got to his face. Lyon stared blankly at him.
“Which are you more afraid of?” Lyon asked. “That I’m real or that I’m not?”
Ephraim’s breath hitched, his hand still hovering in midair. He hadn’t dared touch Lyon since he reappeared.
“I’m just afraid you’ll disappear again.”
Lyon tilted his head.
“It doesn’t matter if I’m real or not?”
“Of course it does,” Ephraim said. He hoped with all his heart that this Lyon was real, but also he didn’t. If this one wasn’t real, could the real one still be out there? But if this one was real, would he be able to be with Lyon forever?
“I’ve always hated you,” Lyon said, making Ephraim flinch. “I’ve always loved you. Feelings can be contradictory like that, can’t they?”
“Yeah,” Ephraim agreed. He knew Lyon didn’t mean it in the same way Ephraim did when he said he loved him. But part of him loved to hear it anyway. If he reached out and touched him and Lyon disappeared, would he lose that forever?
“You’ve never been one to hesitate, Ephraim,” Lyon said. His face was so close to Ephraim’s hand, it would be so easy to touch him and find out. “Why are you hesitating now?”
“I don’t want to lose you,” Ephraim said. “Not again.”
“I don’t understand why you care for me so much,” Lyon said with a sad shake of his head. It pained Ephraim’s heart.
“Because I love you,” Ephraim said, his voice vulnerable. Lyon looked at him with pity.
“You shouldn’t.”
“But I do.”
Silence lingered for a moment. Lyon looked away from him, deep in thought. He was always lost in thought. Ephraim feared he thought too much for his own good. He interrupted him.
“More than you know.”
Lyon blinked and looked over at him. “What?”
“I love you more than you know. Lyon, you’re so kind, even at your own expense. And so smart. Lessons came easy to you. I was jealous of that, you know? And you’re so beautiful, I noticed that right away. You may think your frail features are a weakness, but I love them. The slope of your nose, the slimness of your fingers, the blush in your cheeks. They’re all beautiful to me. And you’re the one that never hesitates. Always striving to do the right thing, even when you’re the one to pay for it. How could I not fall in love with you?”
There was a flush on Lyon’s ghostly pale cheeks, and Ephraim’s fingers twitched with the desire to touch him.
“You love me?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.” Lyon fiddled with his fingers. “I wondered why I was haunting you.”
“Haunting me? So you really are a ghost?” Ephraim’s chest squeezed. Lyon. Dead. Really dead.
“I don’t know.” Lyon shook his head.
“You don’t know if you’re real?”
“Will you help me find out?” Lyon looked at him with pleading eyes, full of a mix of hope and despair. And Ephraim could never say not to him.
“Yeah,” he said, moving his hand forward, ready to cup Lyon’s cheek. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“Me neither,” Lyon whispered, closing his eyes.
Ephraim reached out and touched him.