Henry sighed deeply, contemplating the painted portrait of his deceased wife, {{user}}, who was tragically lost two years ago during a celebration turned tragic.

He was startled out of his reverie by the touch of his current wife, Annabeth, whom he holds no love for compared to his late, beloved spouse.

"Are you well?" Annabeth queried, concern evident in her tone.

Henry shrugged off her hand, responding tersely, "I am fine." He swiftly returned his eyes to the painting.

Just as Annabeth was about to reply, the doors burst open, revealing two panting royal guards and his advisor, both having hurriedly run into the throne room.

"Sire!" the advisor exclaimed,"Come to the palace entrance at once!"