So this is just a short story, following the events of PainfullyAlex's story of how Octavian...well, you'll find out when you read it.

This story is only going to be quite brief and dramatic which is a bit different for me, and would mainly focus on Henri's thoughts and emotions. If you are easily upset, then I suggest you don't read this.

It may sound silly, but I care a lot about this character and Octavian so I simply felt compelled to write this. This is also very normal in real life when someone is going through a tough time, so I feel sympathetic.

Without further ado, here is the story...

°°°

Henri doesn't know the last time he slept. Or ate. Or even bathed.

Like hell he cared, anyways.

What's the point of anything anymore? What's the point of life?

What's a king without his king?

Through all the years, Henri thought he's perfectly fine on his own. Growing up he was able to handle his parents' burning spite and neglect; he was able to handle other people's abuse, along with a plethora of other misfortunes thrown his way. None of that mattered because some way, somehow he still always managed to rise in the end.

But now...

How was he supposed to overcome this?

"Octavian... Why?" Henri barely managed to let out a broken voice, followed by a small hiccup. He grabbed his whiskey bottle, placing it upon his lips only to be greeted with sheer emptiness.

His jaw clenching irritably, he threw the bottle at the wall for it to shatter into a million pieces. Immediately, Harlow stirred awake in her crib and started crying.

Snapping back to the present, Henri instantly felt guilty for waking his daughter up. He can't believe he forgot about her!

Forcing himself to stand up from his seat, he gasped as his knees buckled and he fell back down. These past several days he felt so drained, nothing more than a ghost fleeting aimlessly through the dreaded hours. That is, if he didn't lock himself up all day long in his once shared bedroom with his deceased husband drinking his melancholy away.

After a couple more tries, Henri was finally able to stand up again and slump his way over to Harlow. He picked her up, cradling her in his arms.

Harlow continued to wail, the sound piercing Henri's tired ears. Left with no other ideas, he began to softly sing.

"If our love... Is tragedy, why are you my remedy?"

Through the middle of singing, Henri felt tears prickling his own eyes. Flashes of Octavian drifted in his mind. Those beautiful, dark blue eyes of his that seemed to stare right into Henri's soul. That rare, bright smile only he was honoured to see. His unruly locks, on which he was always so fond to run his fingers through.

The oh so countless times when Octavian promised that he would never leave Henri.

Harlow was silent now, having blissfully fallen back to sleep. Henri kissed the top of her little blonde head before gently placing her back in her crib, him taking a step back and a deep shaky breath.

Looking down at his left hand, he saw his wedding ring. Another ring was on top of it, and so he pulled that one out. As soon as he did so, it magically transformed bigger. And as it turns out, it wasn't a ring at all.

It was a crown.

The Bloody Crown. The very crown that sent everyone into mass hysteria--once the salvation or the destruction of the entire world.

It was indeed like no other crown, with immense power and majesty. And while Henri nearly killed himself trying to hunt down this damn artifact a long time ago, now it didn't matter.

Nothing did.

"What's the fucking point?" He grumbled bitterly, his grip tightening on the crown. "You give me everything I want. Everything Octavian and I wanted. But now the thing I want the most..." Now he didn't care if he was talking to himself, if he was losing his mind. The King of Pride was far too gone now.

He threw the crown, but just before it could hit the ground it was suddenly stopped mid-air by some kind of force. It shrunk again into a ring, flying towards Henri's finger and sliding itself through it. This time it held tight, almost painfully.

Henri's eyes turned sharp and dangerous, his eyes glowing crimson. Was this some sort of Satan's sick, twisted way of payback? After Henri tricked him and made the Underlord nothing more than another one of his pawns, did Satan think of taking Octavian away from him?

Before the White Dragon could completely lose his shit, a knock echoed upon the door. Normally he would just ignore it, but this time around he found his feet moving of their own accord.

"What is it?" Henri growled as he opened the door, glaring menacingly at the poor servant.

The maid gulped fearfully, stuttering for a bit before finally finding her weak voice. "P-Pardon me, my king, but I-I'm just here to remind you that...K-King Octavian's funeral is today."

Henri's eyes slowly turned back to normal, the hand holding the door's knob falling limp. "It's today?"

The maid nodded, gaining a little bit more confidence. "Yes, my king." Her expression then went empathetic. "Shall you be attending?"

Henri was quiet for a few moments, the maid getting unsettled until he finally spoke up.

"No... I don't think I can handle it." Before the maid could pipe up, Henri shut the door without another word. He waited until he could hear her reverting footsteps, and once she was gone he leaned his head against the door.

"I'm sorry..." He sobbed. "I'm so sorry for not being strong enough, Octavian. For not being able to do anything to help you."

°°°

My heart hurts now... Holy fuck.