The Hundredth King

Yavanna lay in her bed, her mind still reeling from the events of that night. That conversation had, by far, been the most successful one she'd had with the king to date.

He was convinced she had magic, which was impossible. Every member of the royal family through the ages did not have the gift of magic. So, there was no way.. he was just wrong.

But he did seem to know something about the creature and its incessant question. But he had dodged answering it. The circle of stones was still embedded in her memory. There was something about that tempted her to return to it, something powerful.

She blinked. When did the pain disappear? She closed her eyes and focused on the place behind her eyes, the one that had been causing her such acute pain before. It was just… gone.

She sighed and tried to relax under the blankets. Her hair was prepared for the coronation and if she peeked open her eyes she would see the dress and accessories she was to wear. She felt a sudden rush of an odd excitement. She would officially be queen of Nothad.

The excitement very soon left her when she recalled the king's words. Their marriage would never be happy. She allowed herself a pout to mourn the children that would never be before regaining control of her emotions. She would be a queen, a strong one, one that listened to her people.

Eventually her body found slumber and clasped onto it so strongly she felt herself being shaken awake. She groaned and parted her eyes open grumpily. She discovered Edith hovering over her with a panicked expression.

She pushed back her frustration at being interrupted from a delightfully peaceful sleep, and sat up. "What is it?" She asked and covered a yawn.

"We must get you ready, your highness."

Yavanna nodded and stood. Her drowsy eyes narrowed when she took notice of all the extra bodies in the room. Women of higher standing littered the room, each of them watching her with expectation.

She turned her head and glanced at Edith. "Oh, it is tradition that the ladies of the court prepare the queen for the ceremony."

"Oh." Yavanna breathed.

And like Edith said, the ladies of the court began swarming around her; removing her nightgown and pulling on the coronation dress and ornaments, tying her hair into knots and plaits, tucking in flowers and ribbon, painting her face with minimal embellishments as her face was still covered by the veil.

A veil that she would never lose.

She caught a glance of herself in a mirror; she looked elegant and regal. She's never thought of herself as a regal person. Mirella could pull off regal, not her.

The dress was a rich blue colour with gold trim along the sleeves and hem. The blue fabric parted down from the neckline to the hem to reveal a white underdress with light green patterns. Her hair was pinned up in a bun that sparkled with gold ribbon and white flowers.

She was led down the stairs to an empty lower level and through the door to an empty forest. The sun had burned off the mist, a fact for which she was grateful for, and filtered through the needles and leaves.

Sir Greyson appeared at her side, eliciting a small smile from her.

As soon as she passed under the branches that wound to form the hall her eyes landed on the king. Compared to him she looked like a simple village girl. Maybe not entirely like a village girl, but with all of the gold deciding him, and authority radiating from him, he looked far more regal than she did.

She glanced for a moment into the crowd with the hope to spot a familiar face, but she was only met with the anticipative faces of the people of Nothad. She turned back to the king and felt confidence slowly grow in her.

Her parents had made sure to prepare to rule, no matter the circumstance. Even if she was to marry a simple baron of the lower reaches of Viland, then she would know how to rule in a household. But she could do far more, and she felt ready.

The thought of what Mirella would think of all this resurfaced in her mind but she was forced to push it away when she received a signal to move forward. She took careful steps forward, not wanting to make a fool of herself by tripping on the dress.

She and the king were standing on a wooden platform at the back of the hall, it was raised only an inch but it still made it clear that she and him were higher.

When she was standing only two feet from the king, who was adorned with his crown, the fabulous design distracting her momentarily. She began to wonder what they were waiting for when an aged man came through another door, opposite to the one she had entered through.

He hobbled over to where they stood and opened a book. He cleared his throat with a hacking that had her trying to keep both worry and disgust from her voice. Finally, he spoke while dragging his finger along the page, "After all these centuries, we have reached a historic day. The hundredth king of Nothad will crown the first princess of Viland as his queen."

A servant wearing a deep blue and gold outfit—similar to that of what the king was wearing—stepped forward with a chest in his hands. The king took a step and opened the chest. Her eyes rounded as she took a breath; she could do this. He removed the beautiful crown with precise movements and took another step towards her.

She stared up at his blue eyes, her body rigid. Her mind wandered back to the previous night. Was he thinking of it also? Or had he dismissed the creature, its words and the magic as nonsense.

His mouth opened and he began speaking in his rich, baritone voice, "Do you, Mirella of Viland, first daughter to King Absolom and Queen Lauren, vow to serve Nothad dutifully?"

She swallowed when she was hit with the realization that this was all a lie. She wasn't meant to be here… her sister was. Her nervous eyes flitted to his cold, hard ones and she swallowed again. "I do."

He raised his chin, "And do you vow to be loyal to it at the cost of your life?"

She blinked, "I do."

"Trusting your king and respecting the people?"

She nodded with lips pressed together before remembering to speak, "I do."