When a man loses the woman he loves, it's alright for him to cry. He should. People expect it. But when a king loses the woman he loves, he must forget that. In complete privacy, he can cry. But in public, he must remember, that before he is a man who has lost the woman he loves, he is the King, who has lost his Queen. He must mourn in public, where only black, and dull colours, order her funeral done with all the efficiency she would have liked. He must give a speech to his court, and to his country, about what a great queen she was, all she did, how much she would be missed. He must stay strong for his family. He is their king, their rock. He is the constant. While he comforts his daughters and sons, he must stay calm. Yes, a tear here or there is fine, but he cannot break down. He can't have anyone supporting him, he must support them. Because he is King. On his heart, lies a black shadow, his grief, his terrible grief. But he cannot reveal it to anyone, not even his most trusted friends, for they would be shocked. He cannot rely on anyone. He must stand alone. He had to prove to his enemies, that he was king. And he would not be broken. Whenever he felt like throwing himself to the ground and sobbing, he would remember how brave she had been, and how that if she had been left, she would have stayed strong. He would stay strong for her memory. He would stand alone.
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Alanna watched her king and friend, through eyes surrounded by the creases of age. All of them had aged considerably since Thayet's death. Now, 30 years later, she watched from the sidelines what the king had become. He still took advice, but now, never considered it. He still favoured her and his old friends (those that were left), but never was close again. He stood, one degree removed from them, kept one degree of separation at all times. Alanna closed her eyes, remembering when the King was just 'Jon', not 'His Majesty'. Those days were gone. One degree of separation.