He is crowned to the sound of stifled sobs.
Other coronations carried with them the sounds of laughter and friendly chatter as they gathered to see who the spirits would choose. He remembers Shandrea's coronation, smiles and good natured banter on the steps of the castle under a clear blue sky. Hope for a brighter future had colored that scene with a rosy glow that carried them on past many a conflict.
Those rose colored glasses are gone now, shattered under the heel of unbending truth. Shan hasn't moved from where she stands since first she'd entered the room. She stares, dark eyes watery and arms held rigidly by her sides. No matter. She'll adjust.
He climbs the steps to the throne to the sound of Gracie’s gentle attempts to soothe Mae as she cries. The flowers woven into his crown are wilting. Lilies droop in the corners of his vision as he turns to survey his friends turned subjects. He remembers how they had cheered as Eloise ascended these same steps, how they’d all taken up the new chant and grinned as their fists rose in salute.
Eloise isn’t here today and he is grateful for it. One less pair of eyes to confront him with confusion and pain.
He gives his first decree to the tearful pleading of someone he called a friend. He looks into her eyes and remembers how they shone with joy as gold settled in her copper hair. Now he watches as the hope goes out like a candle, leaving those green irises dark and rimmed in red.
The last of his words finish their final echo around the throne room leaving silence and sobs in their absence. The tip of his morningstar comes to a rest at his feet and he bows his head. He never wanted to be monarch. He never wanted the weight of the crown and the responsibilities that came with it. But he never expected the crushing pressure of wet eyes and trembling voices to be another weight to bear.
After a few moments the only ones left in the room are him and Scott who watches him descend from the throne with a forced smile and pitying eyes. He remembers how those eyes had darted shyly as they cheered for him, how his smile had warmed the room. He remembers watching Scott’s nimble fingers weaving flowers into the crown that had looked so light when he wore it but weighed him down more than his helmet ever had.
