A/N: Oh hai—uber depressing fic!

This is another hold-over before chapter ten of WoTC is posted (which, btw, will be early next week for those who don't check my profile).

There may be a few more installments to THIS fic, but we'll see ;)

Epitaph

The day was perfect in every measure except that it marked the parting of their ways. The sun felt cold even though the air buzzed with the excitement of summer. All of it was a dull roar to Edge's senses—he knew nothing but loss.

He would never be able to fully explain what it was that had changed; an aspect of the breeze, maybe, or a shift in how the shadows fell across their room. He listened to the birds beyond the glazed windows and heard a mournful dirge being sung. What he knew for certain was that he had lost his beloved and nothing—nothing—would ever be the same again.

Her funeral was small, intimate. Everything was done to her wishes, and yet none of it felt proper enough for a queen. Their children were there; their closest friends and aides, but there were no droves of admirers, no crowds of weeping women and children. There would be no parades or feasts for the passing of the Queen of Eblan, only the quiet vigil of those she'd held dear.

He admitted, as they lowered her into her grave, that this was as he too had wanted—her long sleep undisturbed.

"Sleep well," he whispered to the wind, hoping the words would reach her. "I'll follow you soon enough."