Dull thudding echoes around the second Prince's chambers as he drives reddened knuckles into the wall splintering wood and skin. He is gone to logic and gone to reason, there is no choice but to sit in bed and watch your beloved husband lose himself to the grief inside his head.

Eventually he slumps, the grief too strong to inflict on the wall and returns to your side, your beautiful, prideful husband a husk as he weeps for a little sister condemned for a lie.

"My Alyssa"

He sobs into your chest, a strong man reduced to a shaking mess.

Little Princess Alyssa, executed for an attempt on princess Marianne's life. The princess Marianne has never sat right with you. The girl has always unnerved you, as if she did not belong on this plane. Your husband's current state of mind only lends to this. There is something very suspicious about princess Alyssa's death. Your husband has lately been restless, switching between hatred for his little sister and grief for her.