#6: Mourning
Disclaimer: [Insert standard disclaimer here]
Summary: Prince Goddard is dead, and it's raining at his funeral.
It wasn't a very cold day, but it was raining.
Ironic.
Despite the tiny droplets that continued to fall, gradually soaking the clothes of the assembled crowd on the hilltop, the funeral pyre burned merrily.
It helps when the fire's lit by magic.
Ela was crying. Elen was too, only silently.
Unsurprising.
As he stood stiffly, apart from everyone including his tearful wife and half-asleep son, Gwaine felt as small hand slip into his right one as he felt a tug on his left sleeve. Looking down, he found his five-year-old niece and nephew staring up at him. "What is it, you two?"
"Mama's sad." Henry said softly.
"Yes, she is. We all are."
"Because Grandpapa went away?" Heather said tremulously, clinging to his hand.
"Yes, because of that."
The two children seemed to consider this for a while. Then Henry asked, "Why aren't you crying, Uncle?"
There could be more than one answer to that. Gwaine sighed as his gaze returned to the funeral pyre. It's still raining.
A muddy path. A soaking forest. A silver blade stained with red.
"Because I've mourned for him before."
Okay, enough angst. I swear I'll post something humorous next.
Special thanks to RaisaVolkov and Nettle29 for reviewing :)