What's zup?

The king walked alone. He had left Soren to guard Callum’s door. The superstitious crownguard was convinced that if Rayla managed to sneak into the groom’s room (she’d been caught trying multiple times), seeing the bride before the wedding would doom their marriage. Luckily, at 15, Ezran was old enough that Soren trusted him to get himself around the castle without an escort. Sometimes. In any case, he was glad for the solitude today, because it meant he got to enjoy the excitement of the people around him to the fullest extent. He grinned at the talkative guards, and raised his eyebrows at the carts of baked goods from Barius that were steered past him towards the throne room. He nodded his head at everyone he knew, which was most people, and complimented several on their fine attire. Today was a good day to be a king. 

As he approached the preparation quarters of the bride, he took in a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he was about to have. He knocked. 

“Come in!” 

He opened the door and found Rayla standing in front of a full length mirror. It was long and white according to Katolis tradition, but still drew heavily on typical moonshadow styles; with tight sleeves and a small leaf shaped cutout at her neck. She was fiddling with it, her face scrunched up in concentration, and it took a second for Ezran to realize that she was trying to conceal her butterfly blades in the belt.

“Are you planning on stabbing him at the altar?” 

She turned to face him quickly, hiding the blades behind her back. Her cheeks turned a deep pink. He chuckled. 

“I doubt you’re going to need those at the wedding, Rayla.”

She sighed. “I know, I know. I just feel so… naked without them.” 

“I get it, I feel the same way about my crown.” 

She smiled at him, then set her blades down on the small dresser next to the mirror. 

“So… to what do I owe the pleasure of a kingly visit?” 

He felt the box in his hand get heavier. He cleared his throat quietly, then sat in one of the two cushioned chairs in the small room. 

“I, um, I need to talk to you about a couple things before the wedding.” 

Her smile fell, a concerned look taking its place. She dragged the second chair over and sat down across from him. He continued. 

“So, we haven’t really talked about this very much—mostly because it makes Callum uncomfortable—but this is a royal wedding. Callum is a prince. So marrying him makes you a princess.” 

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards slightly. 

“Yeah… I know,” she said, amused.  

“Being a princess means that you will officially be in the Katolin line of succession,” he elaborated. “After today, if anything were to happen to me, Callum would become king of Katolis and you would become Queen.”   

Her face became a portrait of worry.  “Ez, you’re not sick or anything, are you?”

He shook his head frantically, regretting the way he’d phrased that. 

“No! No no no no, sorry, that was— I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I don’t expect to die anytime soon.” 

She sighed in relief, reaching across the gap between him and grabbing one of his hands away from the box. 

“Good. Then I don’t have anything to worry about, right?” 

“You shouldn’t, but there is always the possibility. I could be killed, or assassinated. I could get sick. I need you to fully understand what you’re getting into here. Are you willing to go through with marrying my older brother, even knowing that you might one day face the pressure of a throne?” 

Her expression turned somber, the most serious he had ever seen her. She squeezed his hand, looking deep into his eyes. 

“I am.” 

He nodded, squeezing her hand back with a smile.  “I’m glad.” 

He let go and lifted the box.  “This is for you.” 

He pressed it gently into her outstretched hands. She took it with a puzzled expression on her face. She slowly lifted the lid away. He held his breath. 

——————————

Rayla stared at the gift, completely bewildered. It was Ezran’s crown. But no, he was wearing his crown. This one was different. The tops and bottoms of the signature uneven towers were cut at angles, and it was slightly more golden than his steel. She looked up at him in confusion. 

He stared at the crown sorrowfully for a second, then smiled at her. 

“It was our mom’s.” 

Rayla’s eyebrows shot up, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. 

“Oh.”

He must’ve sensed her hesitation, because he was quick to offer support. 

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to wear it all the time, just during the ceremony. And Callum will be wearing one too, so you won’t stand out.” 

“Ezran…” she began, still overwhelmed by what she was holding, “I- I can’t wear this.” 

“Why not?” 

“This is your mother’s crown.” 

“And as her son, and the King, I am authorizing you to wear it. For your wedding.”

She looked up at him, searching for excuses or words of dissuasion. 

“Does Callum know?” 

Ezran shook his head. “I thought it could be a surprise.” 

“Won’t he… be upset, about me wearing it?” 

“Are you kidding? Of course not. He loves you, Rayla. Besides, he’ll probably be happy to not be the only one wearing a crown.” 

Rayla nodded, then smiled at the idea of Callum in royal attire. She needed to figure out a way to bypass Soren and get her husband-to-be alone before the ceremony. She swallowed hard, staring at the smooth metal of the late queen’s crown. She looked up at Ezran, and saw the nervous anticipation in his eyes. She threw her arms around him. 

“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear.

“Of course,” he replied.  

Ezran squeezed her tightly. 

“I’ll let you get back to your preparations,” he said as he pulled away, “Just… maybe leave the swords in here?”

She laughed, wiping tears from her eyes. 

“I will.” 

She turned back to the crown as the door shut behind the king. She breathed in deeply, then closed her eyes tight.