Jack Fenton, age 45, passed away on Saturday, June 26th 20XX after experiencing a major heart attack while picnicking with his loving family. He is survived by his wife, Madeline Fenton, and his two children, Jasmine and Daniel Fenton-
Danny crumpled the clipped obituary once more, the wrinkled paper barely made a noise. The newspaper clipping was worn and faded, with tear spots occasionally smudging the ink. Danny held the crushed piece of paper close to his heart, shaking with the force of his sobs. His shudders threatened to topple him off of the gilded window sill and into the plush green carpet.
It wasn't supposed to be this way.
Vlad had already won, why did the universe have to make it a perfect victory? This wasn't a part of the deal!
Two years ago, Danny had given himself over to the older halfa. He didn't have a choice. It was either to become his "son" willingly or everyone would die and he would become his "son" anyways. Danny was trapped, so he made the only choice he could live with. His life for the people he loved. An easy choice to make. A harder one to live through.
On the roughest nights, the nights where Danny would stare up at the ceiling feeling the heavy numbness of sorrow press down on his entire being and hope it would finally crush him, he would comfort himself with the knowledge that his family was alive and together and happy. That his friends had each other, were probably playing the same video game together and arguing over ridiculous things. He could almost find a small morsel of happiness in these thoughts. He might not be there, but they still had each other. They still had their lives to live. They could move on.
So why? Why? He keened with grief, glad that Vlad was not here to witness his emotional torment. Wouldn't confront him over his display of grief for a man Vlad loathed. It just wasn't fair.
The last words Danny had spoken to his Dad were words of hate. How he hated him. How he was a terrible Father. How he wanted nothing to do with him. How he was an embarrassment, worthless, monstrous, destructive. Every vicious lie tasted bitter and acidic on his tongue as he watched the devastation on his Dad's face. The hurt in those kind blue eyes. The desolate tears his deceit had wrought. Shoulders slumped as he begged Danny to not leave. Danny could not listen to him, no matter how much he wanted to stay.
"I'll always love you, Dann-o. No matter what you think of me," He had said as Danny walked away.
Danny let himself fall off the window sill, collapsing in a puddle of tears. He curled in on himself, trying to hold together a heart that was broken beyond repair.
He wanted to blame Vlad. To find proof that Vlad had been the cause behind his Dad's death. He wanted to find some evidence that Vlad had broken their deal so he could wreak vengeful justice on the man. But he had looked. And he had found nothing. And the sheer glee on the older halfa's face told Danny that this was not the machinations of the manipulative bastard. It was merely a cruel comedy the universe had directed. Danny wished to know what terrible sin he had committed to be tossed into this circle of hell.
He couldn't even go to the funeral. Vlad had forbidden it, even though that was where the billionaire was at now. Evading his sister's questions. Comforting his Mom in her time of grief. Enjoying the sight of his Dad being slowly lowered into the ground.
Danny thought he might pass out at the thought, unable to breathe from the force of his sobs. Vlad didn't even know that Danny had the newspaper clipping. He had burned the first one he had found and forced Danny to recite some diatribe of Jack Fenton's faults. Each syllable felt like a dagger in his chest, twisting with the knowledge that he had failed his Dad in every way.
Danny sobbed his apologies and love into the carpet, forced to acknowledge the man who deserved to hear them most was out of his reach forever. Never to realize his ungrateful son loved him as well.