Lissa cried every time she went to sleep.
She loved being a healer, she loved the idea of it. She wanted to be the one that people leaned on when they were hurt. She felt butterflies in her stomach and bits of fluff stab at her heart when she saw the smiling faces of those she helped. When she healed the farmer's son from a horrifying illness, the tears of thanks and joy almost melted her heart. When one of the Ylissean royal guardsmen was injured in a training accident, Lissa sewed his arm back up without a scar. The man picked her up in a massive bear hug, and twirled her around in circles, like a father would his daughter. When she had helped the mother give birth, and brought new life into the world, the sweetness of the moment nearly made her teeth rot.
But this was too much.
She couldn't take it anymore.
Being a healer was driving her insane.
She couldn't sleep. Not anymore. Not peacefully. Not without the nightmares.
They started a long time ago.
She was always a second too late. One second of healing Chrom instead of Robin. One misplaced second of attention. One second where of dragging a wounded soldier into some cover. One single, measly second. One second of fumbling with a vulnerary or thinking about smacking the archer that had been bugging her the entire time in the head. One tiny little second. One misplaced second.
And she would always find someone else collapsed onto the ground, beaten and bloodied like a raw chunk of meat.
And they were dying, bleeding out onto the ground, onto her dress, onto her hands, and everyone else is dropping and dying and Lissa just can't focus her damn staff fast enough, can't get the energy to cast her healing magic, can't blink away the tears in her eyes, can't swallow the bile building in her throat, can't—
Then she would wake up, choking and sweating.
Sometimes, her nightmares were worse. She was there, and she would try to heal, but nothing would work. Amputated limbs stayed amputated. Burns continued to sizzle and crackle against skin. Cuts never sealed. Broken bones remained broken. Skin never grew back.
And no matter how much magic she pumped into someone, nothing would work. Nothing would ever work. And they would keep thrashing, howling in agony as Lissa tried and tried and tried to make something, anything, work.
And no one would ever stop bleeding.
She used to love the color red. It reminded her of spring. Of blooming flowers. Of ripe fruits. Of lips and romance. Of sweet wine and sweet candies. Of birds and berries. Of ladybugs and dresses.
But now, she could only think of blood.
Her hands never stopped shaking. Not even after the battles had ended. Not even after everyone had retired to their tents. Not even in her tent, in the middle of camp, surrounded by friends and family. Not even where she knew she was safe, where there wouldn't be anyone who would be injured at all.
It was getting worse, and she knew it. She almost broke down earlier in the day when Sumia accidentally cut her hand while helping prepare lunch. It was just a little nip, an accidental slip of the hand. Lissa immediately grabbed onto Sumia's sleeve, and inspected her hand. Lissa's hand immediately went to the staff that she always carried with her, preparing to seal up the wound. Sumia snapped backwards, shook her hand a little, and just laughed it off, saying it was just a tiny scratch. After all, Sumia said, there was no reason to waste healing magic on just a tiny kitchen accident.
Lissa was lucky that everyone thought that she was just concerned about Sumia.
They thought that she was being sweet, being the typical Lissa they all knew and loved, being the gentle and kind and loving princess that they all thought she was. But it wasn't that. It was because she was scared.
She was so damn terrified.
She never responded to Sumia. She was too busy wondering why she couldn't bring up her healing magic. Wondering why Sumia had backed away from her healing.
And wondering what would happen to Sumia. She had only managed to calm down after Sumia had left the tent to get a bandage. She was fine, Lissa had to whisper to herself. She was fine. It was just a tiny nick. Just a small cut. Sumia is strong. Sumia is a noble and proud Pegasus knight. She wouldn't bet brought down by that. But that didn't help. Any wound that she didn't attend to was scaring her.
But then, it was also scaring her how she didn't even know what to do anymore when someone wasn't hurt. She had been trained to act and to heal. But what is there to do when someone wasn't injured? When they weren't bleeding to death on a battlefield? It frayed her nerves. After all, she had been trained to watch for others. To look out for anything even remotely wrong with their health.
She remembered that she looked down at her staff and felt the desire to vomit. She remembered that she ran, away from the security of the campsite and into a nearby forest. And she remembered emptying what little was in her stomach on the ground.
This was making her insane.
There was a voice outside of her tent. "Lissa! Three more injured! We need your help!"
She took a deep breath, and tried oh so hard to steady her hands. Then, she swallowed hard and yelled, "I'll be right there!"
Lissa grabbed her staff and moved. She had a job to do.
