They had only been married for four months when he died. Her husband, slayer of giants, had been slain himself by nothing more than a fever. A fever... How could that be? It hardly felt real to her. It couldn't be real.

Isabelle stood beside her father watching the king's guard carry her husband's coffin to its final resting place. The song of the monks floated through the air around her, but she kept her eyes fixed on the rectangular box that now housed the body of her beloved and gave no heed to anything else.

His likeness was etched in the stone, like the kings of old, his features soft and peaceful. Jack the Giant Slayer they had called him, well loved and greatly honored by all in the kingdom.

Isabelle stared vacantly, no longer able to see the picture on the coffin through the veil of tears that had come to her eyes. Her father had told her that she did not have to come to the burial, but she was strong, she could stay, she would honor her husband.

The king's men placed the coffin in the tomb, and the high priest began the eulogy, but still she stood, gazing immovably at the stone that separated her from the man she loved, the moisture hanging in her eyes.

The priest's words came to an end, and the world came back into focus. Isabelle looked over the crowd that had come to pay the respects, and lastly her eyes fell upon the leader of the king's guard, Elmont.

Elmont had loved Isabelle's husband like a brother, and he had remained by Jack's side throughout his sickness. As she looked and saw Elmont standing there at attention, his face set against tears that he could not yet shed for his dear friend, the reality of Jack's death crashed over her, and as the crowd broke apart to go to their homes, so her world broke into pieces.

Elmont always prepared for anything, he had told Jack that himself, but he had never been able to find a way to prepare himself for the death of those he loved.

He watched the crowd disperse from the funeral grounds, and raised his hand to rub his chest in a futile attempt to ease the tightness there. His last friend, gone; dead, never to return.

At last his keen eyes alighted upon the face he had been avoiding. The Princess. He watched as her listless daze turned, in a moment, to a flood of grief.

So, the moment of realization had finally come. His heart dropped even further within him; he knew that his pain could only echo the cry of her heart for her beloved. She turned away and buried her face in her hands, as the king put his hands on her shoulders to lead her inside.

At first, she let her father guide her, leaning into his embrace, but then, suddenly, she jerked away and began to run.

Elmont took after her without a second thought. He knew where she would go; he knew all of her favorite hiding places, and he knew which one she would go to today.

On a normal day, Elmont would have stopped to admire the way the sun shone through the trees and reflected off the water, but today, as he came to a panting halt beside the clear lake, his only thought was for the devastated widow kneeling on its shore. The Princess held her hands in her lap as she wept, head bent low.

Elmont felt his heart's lament grow deeper at the sight, as he drew near and bent down on one knee beside the Princess. He put his hand on her back, and she sank into his arms, clinging to his neck and sobbing.

The dam within his eyes broke then, and he could no longer hold back the tears. He let them flow freely as he held her tight, allowing the streams of sorrow to sooth his aching heart.