(no subject)
He was excited - the rebel was absolutely excited as he made his way towards Baron; it had taken him a lot of time to convince Hilda to let him leave Fynn to go towards his friend's kingdom, and a smile was spread across his lips from the thought of seeing Cecil again- it had been too long since he had last seen him and to see him again was something that made him alight with joy-
However, when they he got there, he was immediately suffocated by the depressing air in the kingdom. None even the children were smiling, something that was odd against the normal images of a 'depressed kingdom but innocent children' and Firion felt his heart sink.
He stood still for a long time before he finally approached a guard, said guard looking upset before Firion spoke- "Is it possible to have an audience with your king?" "... You don't know, do you?"
Firion furrowed his brow before shaking his head, though he felt like he was not going to enjoy the response that he would get and he was right when he heard the sentence that the other had uttered-
"He killed himself just yesterday."
His heart stopped- it absolutely stopped and his hazel eyes were wide and filled with horror, his lips parted yet no words escaped him. What was he supposed to say? The Guard merely looked at him with a sad gaze before looking down. "They're going to bury his body today. There- it's there."
He looked towards where the guard was pointing towards and he gave a brisk nod of his thanks and immediately made his way towards the building that he was guided towards. There was no way that this was happening, this was all a nightmare- yet as he pushed open one of the doors from the double doors and moved towards the open coffin at the end of the room, the sight before him was undeniable.
Pale, ivory hair were spread out upon the red insides of the coffin, eyes slid shut and lips curled downwards in a frown, his hands placed atop his chest that was covered by a clean looking shirt and he could only guess that they had changed his outfit so that he would not look the way he did as he died, obviously.
He reached out uncertainly and pressed his fingers against his supposed pulse on his neck- but there was nothing and his tan skin stood out even more on the sickeningly white skin that looked slightly greyish now.
The King was dead, and he did not know if anyone would be able to figure out why.