A Royal Death [Gerhardt]

The King had not slept all night, not that he'd wanted to. Even when he would lay down his body shifted, tossing and turning. He'd broken out into bouts of absolute frenzy. Emotions shifted all over the place, flipping from screaming to crying to snarling and back again. He'd never felt a pain like this, never imagined anything could hurt this bad, but under it all he knew he'd done the right thing. The King loved her, some part of him always would, but love wasn't everything in life. In creating Seracia he'd sworn himself to the Kingdom and everyone in it, he could not serve them as a proper King with Adette as his wife. As much as he hated to admit it, it was true.

He'd isolated himself from the rest of the pack, barred his den entrance by curling his back against it. No one would be allowed in during this time, not even his son or daughter. The King needed his peace, needed time to console himself, to grieve properly for the love he'd lost, the love he'd given up. The den seemed so cold without her, so frigidly cold that he was sure he'd freeze if he wasn't so hot with anger. Yes, he was still seething over their fight, even though it had happened hours and hours ago. The sun had long since set, but even now he imagined it would be creeping up any minute now, or perhaps it was already up, he didn't know and didn't honestly care.

A howl summoned him, foreign to the ears and demanding. It was urgent, but the King at first did not stir. Surely someone else could handle a joining wolf, though probably none of them would since the call was so concentrated for him. With a final deliberation he shifted and pivoted, crawling from his den in a haphazard state. He looked - and felt - like an utter mess, but shook off and tried to compose himself as best he could. He had to keep up appearances, even if he was dying inside. Legs that felt like jello carried him at a snail's pace to the place where the ebony male stood, finding him coated with Valhallan perfume. What was he doing here?

"I am Gerhardt, King of Seracia. Might I ask what your reason for calling is?" Words were polite and gentle, but lacked the usual fervor they might have carried a day ago. His tail hung limp and his head did not rise to it's usual Kingly level as he gazed glassy-eyed at the man.

"Speech"