She sniffed the air, calm and agonizing at the same time. She bent down and placed the bouquet of white lilies-his favorite- upon his grave. She smiled a sad small smile and rose up wiping the tears of her cheek. That's was life unfair, unjust. Depending entirely on chance, because she was certain that a father killing his own son was not something she would call justice at all. A father, she snorted, that man was anything but a father. He claimed to have loved him; he had said that he had done it for him. Oh, if only, if only he knew what he should have done maybe then maybe then he might still would have been here with her. But then again it was not like he wasn't with her; he was still here, only a part of him though.
A part of him that she had selfishly torn out of his soul with foul magic because he was supposedly been 'owing' something to her, that he hadn't returned. Of course, that was not the case, she was just selfish, Oh so terribly selfish. Selfish enough to keep him in this hell, while he could have been in a place far better than this one. But she was only human inside no matter which masks she wore so, no one should be expecting her to be perfect. She was allowed to make mistakes; she was allowed to be selfish.
"Come, chaton its time to go." She called ot to him and he obliged "sure"