His sobs increased both in volume and in tears as he realized that perhaps he really was the reason for their daughter's death. After all, why else would such a benevolent god kill his precious daughter? Finally, he allowed himself to look up slowly at both his wife and his dead child, fighting back another wave of sobs. Why had they begun to fight? He just wanted his wife back, damn it. But, even though he knew she was too proud of a woman to take him back sobbing like a child, he crawled forward slowly on the floor toward her as she covered their child with the bed sheets.
"H-Hattie," he sobbed out, his voice choked apart by his crying. "L-love, please...c-come to me...I-I need you. I can not grieve myself, n-nor can you." He knew he most likely looked pitiful and weak and stupid before her, as he was nothing more than a pile of tears and grief before her. And, of course, Harriet was as reluctant as always to give in to his pleading.
"I needed you, but you ever came back and for that, I don't think I can ever forgive you." Her voice was cracking, he could tell, and yet she hurried from the room without betraying a single emotion upon her countenance. He let out a cry of anguish, but bit his lip to keep it from being too loud.
"Harriet, please!" he yelled after her, his voice cracking also. "Come back, Harriet, please! I am sorry, I am ever so sorry." It took him a while to realize she was not returning and, instead of crying more, he suddenly got to his feet and turned toward the door.
"Damn you, you vile woman!" he snarled, fists clenched tightly in anger. "You bitch, get back here! Come back here, woman!" He wanted to move forward, to chase after her, but he didn't know what he would do if he caught up to her. Instead, he settled upon slamming his fist into the wall, hoping it would help him cope. It didn't, of course, but it simply caused him to feel pain and rage, along with his earlier grief. And now, he was utterly alone...and he didn't like it at all. Shaking with his mixture of anger and anguish, Charles walked slowly to the edge of his daughter's death bed and sat on the edge, looking down at her with red eyes and a solemn expression.
"Oh, my sweet little girl..." he mumbled, slowly reaching to run his hand through her golden locks. The cold, clamminess of her skin caused him to cry out and tears formed in his eyes. "What are we going to do without you, little one?" He sighed and leaned down so that he could press his lips once more on her head. "You need to watch over us now, Lizzie...you a-and Father...you will watch over us, won't you?" He gave a weak attempt at a smile, but it soon crumbled to bits as he looked once more at her still, expressionless visage. "You had such a bright future ahead of you, darling...God, I would have died in your place if I could have."
The sound of the door to the room opened startled him and he sat up quickly, praying it was Harriet and she'd returned to him. Although it turned out to be his mother, he certainly wasn't upset by that. In fact, perhaps he was more thankful it had been Mary Rayleigh and not Harriet, for his mother would most certainly comfort him, whereas Harriet was likely still seething and ignoring him.
"Mother..." he whispered, standing up quickly and brushing the tears from his eyes hurriedly, as if trying to create the impression that he hadn't just been sobbing. He looked as if he wanted to say more to her but, instead, the young king simply rushed forward and hugged his mother tightly. Though he was almost an entire foot taller than her, Charles leaned down against her and sobbed wholeheartedly into her shoulder, his entire frame wracked with sob after sob. "O-oh Mother, Lizzie's d-dead...Harriet hates me...God, t-the entire world has fallen to b-bits." He could have stayed in her embrace for ages, letting his mother soothe him as she did when he was a young, sickly child. Instead, though, he finally forced himself away after a few minutes. He still had to act like he had some control over the situation, despite how much he just wanted to curl up away from the world. "A-are you here because of L-Lizzie...?"