A/N: Alright, people! It's bawl-your-eyes-out-tragedy-fic time! I've had this idea for the longest time now, and I finally got around to penning it. As the description indicates, this story is revolved around the death of one of the Greil Mercenaries. I won't tell you which one right now, but I'm sure that if you know me as an author, you can probably figure it out pretty easily. I've never written anything that's even remotely this sad before, so I really hope it doesn't come across as cheesy or overdone. It's my intention to make people cry with this one! I certainly did while writing it! Then again, I'm quite an emotional person! :P By the way, don't give me too much credit for the poem in the beginning. I did not write it, and I do not take credit for it! With all that being said, I hope you enjoy this fic! And don't be ashamed if you shed a tear! :P

Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem. All characters you recognize belong to Nintendo/Intelligent Systems.

'The Death of the Flowers'

The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,

Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere.

Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;

They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread;

The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay,

And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.

Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers,

That lately sprang and stood

In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?

Alas! They are all in their graves, the gentle race of flowers

Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours.

The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold November rain

Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.

The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago,

And the briar-rose and the orchids died amid the summer glow;

But on the hills the goldenrod, and the aster in the wood,

And the yellow sunflower by the brook in autumn beauty stood,

Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men,

And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland, glade, and glen.

And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come

To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home;

When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still,

And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill,

The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore,

And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.

And then I think of one who in their youthful beauty died,

The fair meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side.

In the cold moist earth we laid them, when the forests cast the leaf,

And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief;

Yet not unmet it was that one, like that young friend of ours,

So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.

-William Cullen Bryant

The wind that day was unrelenting, whipping through everyone's hair as they stood by the somber stone of the grave. No doubt it was the work of the changing seasons. The warm summer weather was gone, and autumn would soon be upon them. Already the leaves of the trees were changing hue, from a luscious green to a vibrant orange. The temperature outside wasn't exactly comfortable. In fact, it was quite cold for one of the first days of autumn. But they bore it without complaint, knowing they needed to pay their respects to their fallen comrade.

The remaining members of the Greil Mercenaries stood, heads bowed and eyes spent with weeping. Only one other member of their group had died before them, and it was their former commander himself. They had been sad then, too, but they never expected another of their own to leave them so soon. The newly deceased's body lied next to Commander Greil's, and they all knew he would not have had it any other way.

The wind rippled through Titania's thick, sanguine hair, and she pushed her bangs out of her eyes. She looked upon the grave with a sense of remorse, mentally punishing herself for not doing anything to help. How could she not have known? This was all her fault. She was the one to blame for this. She dropped to her knees before the headstone and reached out with one hand to lay upon it. Tears flowed freely from her sullen, green eyes. Rhys knelt down beside her, gently putting his hand on her rough shoulder. It was all he could do to comfort the grieving paladin.

Oscar's eyes were closed as he looked down at the ground. Every now and then, a tear would streak down his face. His younger brothers stood close beside him. Boyd also made complete eye-contact with the grassy earth, as if not looking at the grave would make him realize this was only a nightmare. His hands were clasped together, his nails digging into his calloused skin. Rolf, the youngest of the brothers, wept openly as he clung to Oscar's torso.

Mia, the usually chirpy and energetic mercenary, found that she had no such lively feelings. She may have only been with the mercenaries for a few years, but that was still enough time to get to know everyone quite well. She held Mist in her arms, as the younger woman quietly sobbed into her chest.

Gatrie, the ever manly and womanizing knight, let out small sniffles as he tried to wrap his mind around what happened. It didn't seem real at all. Even Shinon, who was perhaps the most heartless member of the group, had the tiniest of tears leaking from the corner of his eye.

"Titania," Rhys finally spoke, breaking the pensive silence. "Would you like me to say a final blessing over his body?" His question was answered with the slightest of nods from the usually very composed woman. Having been given permission, he raised his staff over the grave and began to recite a blessing in the ancient tongue.

Titania listened to the words Rhys spoke so tenderly. She looked upon the writing of the grave, and only sobbed louder. Shinon was sure the whole of Tellius could hear her cries, but he chose not to judge her. After all, this loss was something none of them had expected. They all shared each other's grief and granted one another a shoulder to cry on. But when Oscar had offered his to Titania, she refused, allowing herself no such sympathy. She didn't deserve it, she thought. Once more as she stared at the grave, she permitted her mind to travel back in time.

The day of the memorial service had been a somber one, indeed. They each walked into a quiet church in Melior, where the deceased's body currently resided. The church was not extravagant by any means, but it still possessed a nice air about it. The mercenaries were in a very stable financial condition, so they could afford to have a nice memorial for someone who had given them so much. Rhys had even offered to preside over it so the resident priest would not have to be bothered. The healer said an opening blessing, then allowed them all to come up one at a time to say their final goodbyes.

The casket was not much, simply a plain wooden structure. It was sturdy though. Gatrie, Oscar, and Boyd had made it themselves. They knew it would house the occupant quite well until his body decayed. Titania thought that perhaps simple was the better choice, anyway. After all, he was more fond of the simpler things in life.

When it was her turn to see the body, she immediately burst into tears. She couldn't even look at him without hating herself. His face, so pale and ashen in the dim light of the church, held no expression. His eyes were closed, as they should have been, but she wanted them to be open. She wished she could see them one last time. She approached the casket slowly, her feet feeling like bricks as she trudged forward. His body was adorned in an immaculate white garment that seemed to glorify his empty form. She reached for his hands that were folded peacefully over his chest, and flinched at how cold they were. How lifeless. She gazed upon his thin face. Already he looked so much like a skeleton, the bones of his jaw could be visibly seen. Of course, this was probably because he had stopped eating days before his death. Titania silently cursed herself. She should've known back then. That was the first clue, and she had simply passed it off as 'normal behavior.' Her hands moved to trace the lines on his face. His mouth was a thin line, sealed tightly, just like it would've been if he were alive. His long tresses of dark hair cascaded down from the top of his head, styled in the way he usually wore it. Titania gently brushed her fingers across his bangs, moving the strands away from his face.

"Oh, Soren," she whispered softly. "I wonder if you can see how much everyone misses you." She rested her hand on his cool forehead, covering the intricate red mark that lied there. Her silent tears fell onto his face as she imagined his eyes; those beautiful crimson orbs that seemed to see directly into anyone's soul. How had it happened, that the one who was the most composed and collected of them all, had taken his own life?

She knew now, though, why he had done it. Ike had set out to fill his adventurous spirit, leaving Soren to slowly waste away right in front of them. Immediately after the Goddess's War, Ike abandoned the company of mercenaries, telling few of his plans. He had come to speak with Titania first, and her reaction was nothing short of flabbergasted. Oh yes, she remembered that day perfectly. She asked him why he wanted to do such a thing, and he only responded with, "There's more things out there. I have to move on." She then proceeded to ask if he would be taking Soren with him. He told her no. Soren would be staying there with them. He then left her to go tell Soren, and Titania could only wonder how the sage would react. Little did Ike know, however, she followed him to Soren's room. She laid her ear against the wood of the door, and the conversation that unfolded was not a pleasant one.

"What do you mean you're leaving?" Soren demanded. Titania could tell his voice was near cracking, and that he would be crying soon. But she'd never heard or seen him cry. "And more importantly, why am I staying here?"

Ike sighed deeply. "Listen to me, Soren. You're not going to be happy where I'm headed. When it would come time for me to die, you'd have no one. It's best that you stay here with people you know."

"Then why don't you stay?" Soren scoffed. "If you're so concerned about my life span, then why don't you stay here with me so I can cherish your friendship for as long as I live?" Soren paused for a brief moment, and his tone of voice lowered. "I always knew you hated me because I'm Branded..."

Titania gasped discreetly from the other side of the door. Soren is one of the Branded? Titania shook her head then. No, this does not change my opinions about him, she thought.

"I do not hate you because you're Branded, Soren!" Ike almost shouted, and Soren hushed him sharply. Ike sighed once more. "Trust me, you're better off-"

"Go away!" the sage bellowed."Go away and never come back! See if I care!" Soren was holding back sobs now. All Titania wanted to do was run in there and hug him tightly, tell him everything would be alright. But she restrained herself, knowing Soren would be angrier if he discovered she was eavesdropping.

"Soren-" Ike began again, but he was cut off.

"Get away from me!" Soren screamed, hiccupping softly as he was now full on bawling. Titania flinched at his voice, wondering what the other mercenaries were thinking.

There was a poignant pause in the conversation, then Ike finally spoke again. "Alright. I'm leaving." He didn't sound as forceful as he had before. "Goodbye, Soren." Titania heard footsteps coming closer to the door, and she quickly scurried off to hide behind the corner leading down another hall. As the door opened and gently closed, she prayed Ike would not come her way, and he didn't. She heaved a sigh of relief, and when Ike was out of sight, she took her position at the door once again. She only heard plaintiff cries and the occasional sniffle. Then Soren spoke.

"Why, Ike?" he asked himself in between sobs. "You're my only friend. Why are you leaving me?" His voice became louder and she heard an angry roar, followed by a crashing sound. He began breathing harder and his cries grew immensely. Titania began to weep silently herself, wanting to do nothing but comfort this poor, tortured soul. After a while, Soren cried himself out, and Titania heard his small body hit the floor. It was quiet then, and she figured he'd passed out. Carefully, she opened the door and saw that her assumptions were correct. Soren lay in a disheveled mess on the stone floor, his chest heaving up and down. She also noticed that a chair was tipped over on the ground, and several of Soren's tomes accompanied it. With great care, she scooped up his light frame and settled him into his bed. When Soren's head hit the pillow, he murmured something in his sleep. Something that sounded a lot like 'mother.'

Titania bowed her head and sat down next to him. She found herself wishing that she were his mother. If she was, Soren's fragile heart would definitely not have been shattered into a million pieces tonight.

But it was broken, Titania thought, still kneeling beside Soren's grave. And she didn't even put two and two together. Just then, Rhys' voice pulled her out of her reverie.

"Maybe we should head back to the fort now," he suggested, his hand still resting on her shoulder. "It's beginning to get dark."

Titania looked up at him with a tear-stained face and nodded her head ever so slightly. One by one, the mercenaries left the grave site, all with their heads hung in solemn grief. Titania stayed behind a moment longer, however, mentally apologizing for not being there when he needed her the most.

"I hate my brother for what he did," Mist's voice said suddenly from behind her. Titania spun around, thoroughly surprised she was not yet alone. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Mist apologized, walking towards the grave again.

Titania wrapped an arm around the young woman and pulled her in close to her side. "I'm sure Ike wasn't expecting this to happen," she said. "None of us were." Titania held back more tears as she remembered how they'd found Soren that night. He wasn't at dinner, and they all heard a petrified scream as they quietly ate. Titania rushed to his bedroom immediately, the others closely trailing behind her. She thrust the door open, and cried in horror at what she saw. A chain reaction of gasps and terrified sounds followed. Soren's mangled body lay on the floor, a bloodied knife clutched in his small, pale hand. Titania sank to her knees next to him, wondering if she was dreaming. Upon closer examination, they saw that there was a neat, long laceration across his neck that spilled his blood. Soren had slit his throat. Titania screamed for Rhys to heal him, but the priest gripped her shoulders tightly, telling her that it was too late. He was gone.

"He told me," Mist's voice penetrated the silent air once again. "Titania, Soren told me what he was planning to do." She started weeping and fresh tears fell anew. She buried her face in Titania's chest. "I should've told you or someone else, but I was too scared. At first, I thought he was kidding. But then I remembered that he rarely jokes about anything at all."

Titania squeezed Mist tightly, rubbing her back. "I don't think it would've made a difference if we knew, Mist," she comforted. "He would've found a way to do it when we least expected it." She sighed and rested her chin on Mist's head. "He was always so determined in that way."

Mist nodded. "I know. But that doesn't make this any easier."

Titania's eyes drifted to the grave once more, then she turned her body around, with Mist still clinging to her. Slowly and arduously, they began the long walk back to the fort.

A much needed rain penetrated the land the next morning. Farmers will be grateful, Titania thought, as she made her way back to Soren's grave. She held in one of her hands the most perfect red rose, which she had kept from the memorial service. Even though the service was almost a week ago, the flower still looked to be in immaculate condition. In her other hand, she carried Soren's Rexcalibur tome, which she knew was his favorite. As the headstone came into view, Titania used all her strength to keep her composure. When she at last reached the grave, she got down on her knees, bowed her head, and offered a silent prayer to the goddess, Yune. When she lifted her scarlet head, she placed the rose on the moist earth in front of the stone. A sudden gust of wind swept through, and threatened to carry the flower away. Without even thinking, Titania laid the tome atop of it, willing it to stay in place. Immediately, the rain manifested itself on the binding of the dull, greenish colored book, creating darker, damp circles. She cast her eyes over to the grave that lay beside Soren's, and her eyes slowly began to well up with tears.

"Please watch over him, Commander Greil," she said softly. "He needs someone who will do that for him." She carefully wiped her eyes with an armor-clad finger and looked back to Soren's grave. "And you," she began. "You watch over Ike for us. Let us know he's alright wherever he is." She took in a deep breath. "He truly cared for you. I hope you know that." She paused for a brief moment. "We all did." Her eyes drifted down to the rose that lay motionless underneath the heavy book. It was a long while before she finally spoke again. "Whenever I come by here, I'll always remember to bring with me a single, red rose. I'll lay it on your grave, so everyone who sees it will know what a pure and beautiful person you were." She rested her hand on the cold, wet stone, and closed her eyes as she welcomed a thoughtful recollection.

"Daein's troops are superior in both numbers and morale. The chances of a Crimean victory are slim indeed."

"But Crimea is ruled by King Ramon, who is known throughout the land for his wisdom. And his brother, Duke Renning, is said to possess peerless valor and courage. Daein may not find victory so easily."

"Valor and courage are for children's tales. In terms of military prowess, Daein's King Ashnard is very bit Lord Renning's equal. Victory will hinge on troop numbers and supplies, and Daein is superior in both. I think the outcome is painfully obvious."

"Curse you, Soren! Crimea is not doomed! If they can turn aside Daein's initial thrust and turn it into a test of endurance..."

"With the Crimean army both demoralized and ill prepared? They simply will not be able to hold out that long."

Titania shed a small tear and chuckled lightly at the memory. How she and Soren used to bicker so over military tactics. Their views frequently clashed, and they found themselves arguing with each other more often than agreeing. But even still, she respected Soren, and he respected her. As she entertained the few fond memories she had of him, she could hear his calm, collected voice on the wind.

"Don't worry. I'll be here, watching over you."

Titania stood and took one last look at his final resting place. Before she turned to walk away, she offered another prayer. "I know you will be," she whispered. "Rest well, Soren." It's alright now, she thought. His soul is at peace. He no longer has to bear the weight of his earthly affliction. With no more words to say, Titania left the grave behind, occasionally looking back as she did so. The rose was now soaked with rain drops, and it lay flat against the dirt. What a rude awakening it was, that all things good and pure, must eventually come to an end...

A/N: I have absolutely nothing against Soren! He's my favorite character, which is why I decided to write this. I always wondered what became of him if you don't A-support him with Ike. And thus, this story was born! That, and I figured I'd try my hand at tragedy, just to see how it went. I hope you enjoyed it, and that it wasn't too boring or drab for your tastes. As I said before, I've never written something this sad. If you liked it, please favorite and review! :)

P.S. I promise this will be one of the very few tragic fics I ever write! :P