Gavon. Am I too late...?
He lowered his head and leaned in with his arm around her back—etiquette be damned! "The Lion...", the words struggled to come out of his mouth, "has fallen, though his majesty's deeds will live on past the end of time."
Gavon glanced back at Amalric's body. This time it hit him. Memories, good and bad, played in his mind. The Siege of Bora, where their brawl over whether to burn the city's renowned wineries almost cost them the war. The hours spent laughing behind the nobles' backs after their pathetically humorous attempts to gain royal favor. And who could forget the famous hunting trip to Skittle Woods? A few more tears rolled down Gavon's cheek, which he did not immediately wipe away. It wasn't like Angelique could see them.
And then Ser Orphan interrupted him again.
"As I have already explained to the good Ser Delian, the matter of succession has already been dealt with and the empire shall go to Kendrik."
He turned towards Delian and smiled. "Now if you don't mind our brother and dear cousin lies newly dead in this very room, and we would like to honor his memory and not spoil our mourning with talk of such vulgar political matters."