Heather
When Alora had heard the sound of the gravel pounding further into the ground, her ears twitched. Before she could spot the source at the distance the sound had been made it, the source, had seated themselves next to her. The scent was awfully familiar. The tenderness of their voice spoke to her soul. This was not just anyone. It was Astalios, her brother. Her **Only** Brother. The brother who understood her most and assisted in her being the woman she is today. No matter how far they had drawn apart, his scent to her nose hadn't. Her chin lowered and straight through his eyes pierced the perfectly green orbs of Alora's.

"A-Asta-lios-.."

The princess choked on her brother's name as the letters clawed their way out her vocal cords. Her whimper wasn't long lasting as a gasp for air followed his name. Had she continued watching the leaves, she would've began mourning by herself. It was almost a blessing from the gods. They knew what she needed better than she did. 

The first thing Alora noticed was the wrinkled worries and unpleasant exhaustion that had plastered across his face. He was tired in every way that was possible. It was moments like these that made her feel culpable. She felt that her tears and weeps meant nothing and were of no value. Never once does she remember him saying he's tired. Her dear brother must've been just as shocked and if not more in pain than she was. He'd gone through war, in hopes to return to a peaceful abode, only to witness another loss but this time of a man who raised him.

"R-Right, I was reading... I-It's abo-about trees a-and the environment sui-suitable for their grow-"

The continuous choking on her words resulted in Alora's eyes to well up with innocent, sweet, tears. As she spoke and choked on her words, her wrists climbed up to her ivory cheeks. She wiped away any tears that escaped her sockets.

But alas, the number of tears had multiplied in seconds leaving her helpless. Alora's hands were not fast enough for the numerous tears that suddenly blasted down. As the tears drew stains on her now rosy cheeks, she broke down and weeped like a child. Her tears were similar to the day she had fallen off the horse Astalios taught her how to ride. Innocent, pure, and unknowing.. 

Without hesitancy, the princess threw her whole self forwards to gently wrap her arms around her brother's neck. Her arms clanked against the chest plate he wore but that noise had only encouraged tears to keep flowing. As her head lowered, their headpieces clashed. Alora's tiara had caught onto one of the antlers on Astalios's crown. As the headpieces binded, so did the two siblings.
Bobby
"Alora-" *He had begun to say something, but in the few moments between his sentence starting and the moment it was stopped short, he had lost his train of thought. Perhaps there was nothing they could say to each other that would mean more than the presence of an arm lent to support family in their time of need. Her voice was pitiable in its own way, on the verge of breaking before she had even gotten his name out. To be left to wander the halls of the castle without much time to grieve was a difficult fate. 

Trees and the environments most suitable for their growing were certainly the last thing upon his mind, and he didn't doubt that they were the last thing on hers. Guilt shot through him as if he had been pierced with an arrow - how could he have let this situation grow so severe? It was his duty to take care of Alynthi, as king, but as the man of the house, his was also the responsibility of taking care of his mother and sister. He bit his lip, cutting off any further words, and wrapped his arms around her in turn as she used his shoulder to cry on. 

The day of the funeral had been hard. His coronation had been harder. Taking care of his sister would perhaps be harder still. He had cried once, during his coronation party, but never grieved. The tears had been shed in rage, in a moment of weakness after a foreign minister suggested he was making a show of his grief for political gain. The incident had needed an apology uttered through gritted teeth and against his will to repair. No time to grieve indeed. 

Her tiara was soon caught in his circlet, and part of him thought to tell her about it, but it was easier to bend the metal of her headpiece and flatten it back while freeing it, making it less likely to catch on his crown again. The crown his father worn would never be the subject of his magic if he could help it - it was made thousands of years before by dwarven master smiths. It was no toy to shape as he wished.*

_ _
"...I'm sorry." *He exhaled, leaning into her. What else could he say? The tears she was shedding were a long time past due, and he was a poor substitute for the greatness of the man that had come before him. Had his father been there, he had no idea how he would have handled the situation. All Astalios could do was be quiet and listen. There was nothing he could do to fix it, nor bring his father back from the dead. The gods, fickle as they could be, had taken him in good time. It was his duty to succeed him.

He wavered for a moment, holding back a wave of emotion that threatened to overtake him - but when one person cried, another had to stand firm. There was no use in both of them crying - one had to support the other. He had done so for the sake of his country many times. For his sister, he could do so again.* "...I had hoped to speak with you sooner."
Heather
Alora sat still in place. The only thing caught moving had been her chest which heaved with emotion. Astalios knew, once Alora let her tears flow, it could last an eternity. Though that didn't seem to bother him, and that was not a shocker. She knew her brother was understanding and patient with her. As Astlaios used his gift to carefully separate their headpieces, Alora continued to weep like a child. She hated that Astalios had to see her in such a vulnerable state, but far more grateful of his temperament. 
Right when Astalios had apologized, Alora's body jolted. An apology from Astalios?! Nonesense! He had nothing to apologize for. It was his duty to be doing what he was doing. It wasn't like he had a choice. The only possible choices he had were stepping down from the family or passing down the throne to her; and he knew either options weren't the best. He had done nothing wrong. 
Before she spoke, the princess sniffled in increments and cleared her throat.. Although her tears kept flowing, her voice had gained stability, allowing her to speak without much choking.

"Don't a-apologize over something you d-didn't have a say in. I-I'm glad we have the time now."

Her tone was undoubtedly quiet, hurt, and strange compared to her tone on other days. Her voice reflected on how much she'd let this all affect her. Being away from her brother now was much more difficult than it was years ago, definitely because she was much more malleable and clueless as a child.

Once again, Alora's attention had shifted to the unpleasant lines that had found a place on her dear brother's face. He'd been working himself out, and so, she had decided to address it. 

"You're f-far more tired than I will ever be, A-Astalios. Don't push yourself too hard. I can't a-afford losing another loved one, let alone, it being *You*. I w-want to remember your voice." 

After speaking, she dug her face into her arms that wrapped loosely around her brother's neck. A part of her wished they were born out of royalty so that their lives were much more simpler. No politics, no responsibilities of this sort. They would've been just a loving family of four with them playing the roles of son and daughter. Who knew, perhaps Astalios would've been married by this time and had children if he was not royalty. Or maybe, Alora might've been a seamstress. The more Alora thought of the simple lives they could've had, the more tears were produced. 
Yet, she couldn't have been grateful that it was *Her* Family that was royalty. She knew that they all had good intentions and wanted the kingdom to progress more than anything. A family of simple hearts with hefty responsibilities to bear. This made it evident that everything has happened with reason.
Bobby
"As am I." *He replied, exhaling slowly. Was it such a shock that he had apologized? Neglecting one duty in favor of another was the way of things now that he had ascended the throne, and the circumstances of the day did not change that fact. He **Did** Have the choice - he was king, and his word was law. But if he wished to be a good king, time was short and expensive. Meetings lasted for hours, and family tended to languish. It would be better eventually, he thought - once his advisors adjusted, once he understood how to navigate the social setting he found himself in.

He gave her a warm squeeze, trying to make the most of what time they had. He could not stop tears with a command, but perhaps with support, they could be slowed and then assuaged in time. A crying sister was the last thing he had ever expected to face in Dazvaz - and the time he had spent there had shaped him into a person wholly unprepared to deal with such matters. Fourteen years of absence from his family, and no hands-on mediation or sharing in struggles and triumphs. It was a failing of his that he could not rectify.*

"It is a different voice than when I left, to be sure." *He tried to broach the topic gently as she continued to cry, shedding tears on his shoulder.* "But I do not intend on leaving you or Mother any time soon. I would hardly be a good king if I allowed myself to have a short reign." *It was poor reassurance, but it was what he could offer. His thoughts drifted to his father once more, dwelling on the face that had greeted him as he returned home a hero, that had come to the border twice a year to check their progress, that had made his appearance at Uncle Temperance's battlefield funeral.

Guidance was absent, and power politics were everywhere now. What he had most wanted to do when he returned was to speak with his family, to reacquaint himself with civilian life - and not long after, his father had left this world for the next. The gap had grown again.*

_ _
"...I miss him greatly." *He sighed, letting his eyes close in grief as he echoed his sister's sentiments, making sure she knew he was neither impervious nor heartless.* "The night of my coronation, a Findaran lady tried to suggest I was profiting from his passing. I nearly let myself go. I am sorry I was taken away before I could speak to you then. At the funeral, too, I was busy. I wonder whether I shall be busy perpetually nowadays."
Heather
Although Astalios's words hadn't lessened her worries, it had certainly rekindled hope that the two, now being in a state of realization, would try and devote more time for each other. It wasn't like they both hadn't already tried to do so. Experiencing loss simply motivated them to triple their efforts.

*The fragility of life is perplexing. Its value differs from person to person, as well as its meaning. Young adolescents who take pride in their youthfulness believe they are untouchable and take risks. On the contrary elderlies fear to rest their heads and so whatever they can to not be paranoid. In the end it didn't matter who or what you were, since the print left behind would be the only thing continuing to live on as the corpse rots. The living and breathing are all guests to their homes and families. Nothing is guaranteed life for eternity.* Alora's father had been her greatest teacher. To the very end he disciplined and sheltered her; teaching her how to mourn and the hardships that follow death. 

As the vigorous flowing of tears had started to ease, Alora pulled herself off her brother and adjusted her position. She sat on her shins with her torso facing her brother. The change of position had given her gown the opportunity to pumpkin itself. This change extend the attire's laces and layers, patterns and cuts. 

"I... Miss him as well. Just enough that I've been tempted to look into the past and see the exact moment of his death. I'm afraid if I do so, and find out his death was avoidable... I wouldn't forgive myself. Looking back won't heal me. It'd only deepen the scar."

There had been a sudden change in Alora's voice. It had reverted to its gentleness despite what she spoke of being bittersweet. All it took was some tear shedding for her to be back to 'normal'.

"You do not have to apologize for being King, Astalios. It's a duty that was inevitable. But... I cannot bear the vacancy inside of my heart."