Title: When Things End
Rating: K
Summary: The people of the realms gather to pay their last respects to a man whose life brought so much happiness to their Queen.
Warnings: Character death mentioned
DG stepped forward calmly, her face a mask of regal calm as she approached the small and simple lectern. For those who sat close enough to see, her puffy and bloodshot eyes were the only evidence of the tears she'd been shedding that morning. She silently cursed the too-bright sun that shined through the large windows of the hall and mocked the solemnity of the day.
Her advisors had made sure to lay the carefully constructed eulogy out for her before the beginning of the ceremony. It didn't matter; she'd read the embarrassingly short address enough in the last twenty-four hours to have memorized the empty words. Camden's attempts to gloss over the frightening and gruesome reminders of the Witch's cruelty meant that there was nothing in the address that actually paid homage to the man who she had grown to love as more than a friend or brother. The prepared speech held little more than the miscellaneous biographical data that had already been given by the Prime Minister. DG certainly didn't need to remind them again of her friend's status as a hero. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, deciding that she would do more justice to the memory of her closest confidant than that.
She squared her shoulders, opened her eyes, and looked over the edge of the lectern into the faces of the crowd. Raw was there, sitting in the front row and shedding silent tears. DG was selfishly glad that he'd braved the crushing emotions of such a large gathering of humans. Wyatt and Jeb Cain sat beside him, the latter looking slightly amused at the former's uncomfortable squirming. Wyatt never did like to wear a dress uniform and, if seven annuals as a general in the Royal Infantry hadn't been enough to help him get used to the stiff fabrics, then no amount of time would make him more comfortable in it. That thought, coupled with the grimace on Wyatt's face, allowed DG to smile and relax enough to speak.
"We all thought Glitch was getting better. There was no reason not to think it. Once he could remember that there was no way to reinstall his brain, he even got over the disappointment fairly quickly. Once that hurdle was passed, we were all relieved.
"Then he started to actually improve. He worked so hard to improve his coordination and memory, taxing every last synapse in the hope of training his mind to compensate for only having half a brain. It was working, too. Each day that passed, he was more coherent. It took time, but the glitches became more infrequent. He never recovered his scientific brilliance, but that didn't matter to him.
"On the surface, Glitch seemed to be happy, healthy, and satisfied. He never left us. He was always around the palaces, tinkering, however ineptly, in his laboratories. My sister and I probably spent more time with him after the Eclipse than we ever did as children.
"He was almost always laughing, determined to make the most out of a bad situation that was well beyond his control. His smile was bright enough to drive back the clouds on even the darkest of days during the Reclamation and Reconstruction of the Realms. His eyes always held that magical twinkle that seemed to ease tension almost as well as a Viewer's empathy."
Small chuckles rose from Wyatt and Raw, who had been present for that particular conversation over four annuals ago. DG had been having a bad day and her efforts with the representatives from the various Realms at the Constitutional Congress had met with no success. Glitch had swept into the room, stumbling over his own feet in his fumbling attempt at a partner-less waltz. He had been practicing for an upcoming party at which he would be dancing with a new love interest. His antics ended with his lanky figure sprawled out on the conference room floor and a look of bewildered confusion on his face. He'd dazedly asked why he wasn't in the ballroom, and everyone knew from the look on his face that his appearance at that moment had been no accident. The small moment of levity had helped many in the room to regain their perspective. It was one of DG's best memories of Glitch.
A tear that she didn't know had been building rolled from the corner of DG's eye down her cheek. It splashed onto the paper sitting on the lectern, smudging some of the ink. She closed her eyes against the waterworks that threatened to pour. After taking the moment to compose herself, she continued.
"The last few months were an utter hell for us all, but Glitch never once complained. His smile never wavered. His eyes never lost their shine. Even on his worst days, days when he could no longer remember who or where he was, he didn't let himself dwell on the negative."
DG's voice wavered precariously. She knew that she was in danger of losing control of the tears if she didn't end this unpleasant task soon.
"I count myself extremely lucky and incredibly blessed for Glitch's presence in my life. If not for him, I would not be here. I owe him so much, and it is a debt that I will never be able to repay.
"We will miss you, my friend. Be at peace."
She stepped back, wincing ever so slightly at the polite applause that rang through the hall. As far as she was concerned, this was a three-ring circus, well attended because of the novelty of laying to rest one of the last remaining victims of debrainment, not because he meant anything to them. This deepened the sadness that DG felt at the loss of his companionship.
DG sat numbly on the dais through the rest of the memorial. She remained in her seat long after the dismissal. Part of the reason for this was due to the never-ceasing need to ensure the safety of the Queen of the Realms, no matter if DG's title was almost purely ceremonial. Another part of her hesitation was a desire to be allowed to pay her real respects in privacy.
She stood again and walked down the steps of the dais. It was a very short distance to the glossy black casket resting amid the sea of flowers. DG placed a thin bone-white hand on the polished wood. She didn't bother to try to stop the tears this time.
The silence stretched achingly. She didn't even look up when she felt a warm, rough hand rest on her forearm.
"It's time to go, Your Majesty," said a calm, low voice in her ear.
"Yes, General, it is."
But she didn't move. Instead, another arm, this one covered in rough furs, wrapped itself around her shoulders. The three of them stood together in silence, each remembering their best friend.