A third person's POV:
The funeral was simple, as simple as a royal funeral could be. Everyone talked a bit about the merciful, good king. And the sorrows were all over the country.
Every royal family in the world came to introduce their condolences expect the Irish, many of them talked a bit about the king. But Harry didn't. He was feeling empty from the inside. His father was worth so much more to him than a couple of hollow words over his dead figure.
And after every member of his family -and those who were closest to the king- put a rose over the coffin, the king was buried at the age of sixty-two.
Harry was walking away from the grave, holding his mother's hand. She was holding up so well. Even he was surprised. On the other hand, Gemma wasn't like her mother so they didn't let her come near the grave. Harry was worried she'd faint.
Suddenly, Harry felt an arm wrapped around his shoulder. It was Liam.
Liam smiled a sad smile and put a kiss on Harry's forehead, then he grabbed his other hand, and the three walked from the family cemetery to the castle.
Now Harry was a king.
...
A/N: Super super short I know but double update! Please refresh your libraries.