The Coronation Ceremony

When the trumpets sounded from the high balconies, Emilian entered the hall of the goddess clad in the blue and silver of his family name. His coat of snow wolf's fur brushed the floor as he walked, the ceremonial sword sheathed by his side and a smile on his bloodless lips. The nobles who had secured the places on both sides of the aisle lowered their heads. Finally, the Crown Prince stood in front of the altar of the goddess.

Sitting on one of the balconies, Helmina looked at her brother with a fixated stare and tried to ignore the muffled sounds to her left. There, on a higher chair much like a throne, sat the Queen. The older woman wore a green veil below her widely-opened eyes. If she was not so far away, the people might have seen wet streaks on the veil as well as strange, jerky movements of her muscles beneath her long dress while she outwardly didn't move.

Since she sat on the balcony, however, the people below never noticed, and the guards and maids by her side acted ignorant. And the trumpets continued to call.

Suddenly, a new person entered the balcony. She was clad in the white and blue of the priestesses, and the guards didn't stop her when she went forward to curtsy before the Princess.

"Speak," Helmina said without turning her head.

At the same time, Emilian below fell on one knee to honor the stature of the goddess behind the altar. Like the walls and ceiling, the statue was caved of ice, and the chill permeated the entire hall and whitened the breath of everyone to a frosty fog that spoke of winter. Only Emilian's breath left no trace. As he lowered his head, the trumpets gave one last fanfare before silence reigned.

"Your Highness," the priestess whispered softly like the falling snow, "it is as you feared."

From a door below Skadi's stature, the high priestess entered the hall, followed by twenty of her priestesses. While she carried her usual staff, the others carried spears that hit the ground in the rhythm of their steps. Instead of a clanking sound, the cracking of ice filled the air as the ground, the only stony surface of the hall, frosted over wherever the spears touched. Like this, the priestesses walked on an expanding carpet of ice.

Helmina waited for the procession to hold before she stated her next question. "Did you convey my words to the high priestess, my loyal little bird?"

"Of course, your Highness. I never knew the high priestess was tarnished by a man before. She does not deserve her sacred post, and her career will be over as soon as it is revealed."

Below, the high priestess opened her arms and welcomed them all to the hall of the goddess. Nobody noticed that her eyes lingered too long on the balcony of the royal family.

"And what was her answer?" Finally, Helmina's eyes fell on the priestess by her side, annoyed. "If you are any slower, I will know by just looking down. Tell me now!"

"Yes, of course." Hastily, the priestess curtsied again and made a point of leaving her head lowered. "She said she would act accordingly. She will complete the coronation ceremony. Of course, she has no choice but to follow your wishes..."

At this moment, the high priestess down below raised her voice. "Dear people of the Icelands. In front of our goddess, we all are equal, yet we all are special. Some of you were gifted the creativity to craft, some the strength to fight, and some the magic to protect the land and people. Skadi gifted one family with the right to rule, one who should devote their lives to the good of the people. We are here today to continue that line of reign. To crown a new King!"

The people cheered and clapped their frosty hands. Because of the gloves that most of them wore against the cold, the sound was a bit muffled. Behind the priestesses, the door to the vestry opened slightly, and a blue eye peeked through.

"That does not look like she wants to stop Emilian from ascending," Aston mumbled to himself. "Shouldn't she announce your return? If she deviates from the plan, we should step in before the ceremony is concluded, right? Dad?"

Nobody answered. When he turned around, he found the vestry empty, with the back door falling shut soundlessly. Aston's eyes trembled. "No way... did he decide on something else behind my back? Shit!"

Aston suddenly realized that all his father said to the nobles about how he wanted to support his nephew made his supervision grow lax. Did his father not mean his words at all? Drawn between his rising anger and curiosity about what would happen to the ceremony, Aston finally stormed out through the back door.

Inside the hall of the goddess, meanwhile, the high priestess allowed Emilian to stand. Beside her, two priestesses presented a gold bowl and a small knife. Whispers ran through the hall.

"Since the former king is not here to confirm your bloodline, the ritual requires you to prove your claim before the goddess. I ask you: Do you claim to be of the line of Icefall, first of his name, founder of the Icelands, and protector of all its citizens?"

"I claim it." Emilian sounded a bit hoarse, but there was no emotion on his face or in his voice. On the high balcony, the Queen continued her struggle against the hidden bindings, staring at her daughter with indignation.

Helmina had her brows furrowed. She didn't spare her mother a glance, completly focused on her brother below. Her whisper was so quiet that nobody else would hear, not even the person she addressed. "Don't worry, mother, even dry blood should work. And I also placed some of mine with him."

"You may prove your bloodline." The high priestess gave Emilian the knife. The man didn't flinch when he slit his finger and pressed it into the bowl. A white mist slowly rose into the air from the golden surface.

Now, the high priestess turned to the crowd. "If the mist turns blue within a minute, the man who stands before you is approved by the goddess. He may ascend to be our king."

The mist slowly got denser, floating over the altar as if the giant statue of the goddess above had breathed into the icy air. A minute of tense silence followed before the mist began to turn darker.

A triumphant smile tugged on Princess Helmina's lips before it suddenly froze. When the mist had stopped changing, it was not blue. It was a dark and unremarkable grey, like her own eyes.

"There has to be something wrong," she mumbled, her gaze flittering over her mother before landing on the sight below again. "Maybe it doesn't work when dry blood is mixed in."

"I want to retry." Emilian's voice was louder than the starting whispers. Cleaning the knife on his sleeve, he moved it to another finger to draw the blood that nobody saw was there even before a cut. A drop fell into the bowl, and the mist spread out further, hiding the altar and the stature of the goddess inside.

Then, again, it turned grey.

The first voices grew loud. "This is a scam!"

"Who does he think he is?!"

"He is not even a real prince! Scam! Betrayal! Take him down from there!"

Shock grew in Helmina's eyes as she fell back into her seat. "It can't be... no, that can't be true! I am a Princess! I am - what are you looking at?!"

The guards and maids on her balcony had turned in her direction, staring openly. Of course, Emilian and her were twins. If one was not royal, what were the chances for the other?

"Mom!" Helmina turned to the only person who could explain this disaster. "Mom, tell me they are wrong! I am a princess, right?"

However, when the Queen was released from her gag, she only glared at her daughter with poisonous green eyes. The stress had awoken her spirit once more. "If you did not stop me, I would have told you before. Now we all will go down the drain."