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"Long live the king", they had chanted.
"Long live the king", they had hoped.
"*Long live the king*", they had pleased.
Voice wavering, crumbling at the *seams*.
They were sad *they* lost their king.
They cried for their glorious king.
I on the other hand stood in silence.
As they mourned their king.
Face gaunt and devoid of emotion.
A mere specter from my past.
I was not the same since the day he left me.
The day he died.
That day he took a part of my soul with him.
A part that despite the hope stupidly clinging, I knew will never return.
"King Arthur died, he was to buried" the carrier's voice was distant though he stood before me.
His words unable to pierce the veil of my own spiraling thoughts.
'I must be dreaming' I was incredulous.
'I am the powerful Emrys, I should have been able to save him' I was in denial.
'there must be another way' I hoped.
For days I locked myself away, trying to find the spell that will bring him back. But unfortunately there was none.
The night before the funerary rites I finally broke down. I cried more than a lifetime worth of tears and I still feel like it was not enough to emphasize my sorrow.
I had not lost my king, no I had lost more than that. I had lost my destiny, I had lost my heart, my soul. My Arthur, I had lost *my* Arthur.
One casket was put to rest but in it was buried two hearts.