You recognize the fragrance of one you desire and a less obvious sadness.
Reality
Lady Alanna of Trebond and Olau approached, for the umpteenth time in the reccent weeks, her liege lord. He was crying almost, but kept his composure calm. Anyone with sense could tell that it was difficult for him to do so, but he managed. She sat down beside the King, and clasped her hand onto his. Jonathan looked up at his old squire, and gave out a silent sigh of relief.
Since Roald's death, Jonathan had moped around. He tried to show a strong image, but with fewer and fewer knights pledging their fealty each coming day, his hope for a smooth start into his reign had diminished.
Continuing his vigil, Jonathan sat on the stone bench outside a garden, and stared into the forests. Alanna muttered comforting words, and all was well, until of course, reality came back.