Assassin, until the first moment (🇬🇧)

Fallen roses

Alec stared blankly ahead at the freshly laid grave in front of him. Colourful wreaths and flowers blanketed the newly turned, red-brown soil. A large ornate headstone marked his fathers’ final resting place. Individual red roses lay in between the floral arrangements set down by the closest family members and friends. Only one rose remained missing.

His rose… 

Alec blinked away unshed tears from his lashes and swallowed thickly. He had urged his family to go on to the nearby inn without him, where the mandatory funeral reception was to take place. Izzy, his mother and Jace had initially hesitated at his request, but after he had made it clear that he needed a moment to himself, they finally conceded and followed on behind the other mourners. 

Presently, Alec stood at the foot of his father's grave alone struggling with his rising grief and imminent tears. His throat felt constricted as he kept clenching and unclenching his hands, balling them tightly into fists. The sharp thorns on the stem of the red rose he had clutched in his left hand pierced sorely into his skin, it was nothing compared to the pain he had been holding in his heart for the past two months; since that moment he watched on in horror as Magnus died.

Alec closed his eyes when his thoughts turned to the assassin and new salty tears burned hotly behind his lids. He pressed his lips together, trying to curb the sobs from escaping his throat. He missed Magnus, every single second of every passing day and it was becoming harder. Alec had tried to mourn, tried to get over the assassin's death, but no matter how hard he tried, the gaping wound in his heart just was unable to heal and now another wound had been added.

A single tear slipped from his eyes, rolling gently down his cheek. His restrained sobs finally made their way from the back of his throat -  intermingling with the distant rumblings of thunder that echoed across the empty cemetery; a harbinger of the impending storm. It wouldn’t be long before the skies opened its floodgates.

Alec crouched down on his heels in front of his father's grave and placed his rose alongside the others. The Duke ignored the few drops of blood that had already begun to dry on his palm. More tears fell from his eyes and Alec drew in a shaky breath, rubbing his hands across his cheeks, time and again, wiping away the trail of tears.

"I hope that you will find peace, wherever you are now," Alec said, his voice was little more than a whisper.

He sniffed softly. Even though he hadn't been as close to his father as Izzy or his mother had, he still missed him. He had always known that the day would come when he would have to say goodbye to his father. The fact that the day had arrived so quickly hurt more than Alec had imagined. He had always hoped that his father would accompany him during the first few weeks as King, to help and give him guidance. They hadn't always been of the same opinion and Alec's sexuality had created a rift between them, but his father had been a good Duke, whose advice Alec valued, after all. But now he was gone and Alec had to face his new duties alone.

In merely two days, Alec would be crowned King of Idris and begin his seven-year reign. But due to the death in his family, the ceremony had been postponed for a week. Despite all the preparations, currently, he didn't feel ready to take on such responsibilities. 

How could he ever be a good King if he couldn't even protect those he loved? How could he rule an entire country and make sure that the residents of Idris lived a carefree and secure life? 

Alec let out a desperate sigh. As much as he would prefer his simple life in New York, he knew that he couldn't turn his back on his duties. He would do what was expected of him and once again, set his feelings aside. Alec knew that he would be able to handle his duties, just as he had done in the past. But he also knew that it wasn't going to be any easier this time around. Ever since Magnus had entered his life, he had found it increasingly difficult to ignore his own predisposition and sensibilities.