Strange, faded memories of sun-bleached and flaxen sand blowing over a massive skeleton- one he recognized as his own- surfaced briefly. The odd reverie was broken by the sound of small footsteps echoing in the room behind the balcony, the throne room. He had kept the castle in pristine condition, if only to use it as a metaphor, signaling his eternal reign.

Henry danced to his own music. It's a song with a melody of false smiles and an accompaniment of hollow laughter, and after a while it becomes very apparent to Olivia that Henry may be, in fact, very much alone