Their Royal Highnesses- British Royal Family Fanfiction

Mother's Funeral

 September 6th, 1997

Westminster Abby

     Alastair and William were standing next to each other as only men could walk behind the coffin. As the coffin moved by slowly, William, Charles, Earl Spencer, Harry, Philip, and Alastair walked in sync. Alastair almost didn't move because the only thought he was thinking of was that his mother was dead and inside the coffin they were behind and his only feeling was emptiness, not grief or sadness just plain emptiness. 

    The crowd's could be heard screaming his mother's name and they were crying too. Alastair was angry because these people didn't truly know his mother and they were at fault for her death. They cried like they knew her and called her name as a prayer or something. They only knew of his mother as a royal person, mother of the future king, and a famous person but they didn't truly know her,  like her amazing personality, how much she loved her sons, and what she was truly like behind closed doors. 

    Once they had reached Westminster Abby Alastair could no longer look at his mother's coffin, the people's sorrow as they looked at himself and his brothers, and just looking at the world. He just felt like he could no longer move but his grandfather Prince Philip had gripped his arm as if he knew that Alastair would stop at any moment. Alastair refused to show any feeling to the public and the family members who he knew disliked his mother because that would give them some sort of satisfaction.

  Alastair knew his mother was suffering when she was alive with depression, an eating disorder, and the trouble's the press caused whenever they saw her. He was glad that she no longer had to suffer that anymore but he was sad that his mother had to die from the presses actions. And the fact that his family, more importantly his grandmother and father pretended that his mother's pain and suffering didn't exist. He was upset that it took his mother's death for them to finally believe his mother was not well, physically and mentally. But he was glad because his mother's death would account for something, that mental health is a real thing. 

  The funeral had been a huge blur after everyone reached Westminster Abby. The boy's were now on the island at Althropb. Alastair and Harry were close to each other with William standing close but kind of on his own to the side. Alastair had held Harry's hand as his brother leaned and quietly cried into his shoulder because they're mother's coffin was moving it's way down into the ground. They were handed flowers but Harry and William kept one each of the 3 separate flowers while Alastair held the flowers tightly in his open hand because he couldn't seem to let go off any of them. They were his mother's favorite flower and he felt as if in a way, this was the only piece he had left of his mother and he didn't want to let what he felt was left of her.