Our Eternal King

"The history of Ogronevia goes back to the first ruler. Who wasn't actually a king, but a queen. Stories and texts refer to her simply as Mother, but her name, Eirlys, lives on in our lessons as well as the temples dedicated to her."

"She was known for many things. Her beauty, her overwhelming strength and her divine magic. As the first ancestor of Ogronevia's royal family, each generation has been able to produce geniuses at magic, sword fighting and more. Due to her importance to the kingdom and the royal family, each monarch's coronation is to resemble the Mother's which has been recorded in the annals of the palace. This is why I must ask why we are conducting our lesson while you plan said coronation, your majesty?"

Ísar merely hummed at Duchess Astrid Hrolfsdottir's question. He was too busy reading reports. Plus there were also two maids getting him dressed, another trying to hide the darkness under his eyes with makeup and another fed him his skipped dinner. Multi-tasking had never been easier.

The silk dress had a striking resemblance to his grandfather's, dark purple, and lined with golden vines on its hems and long, flowing sleeves. The only difference had been the under-tunic, a relatively new addition to the royal garments as well as the intricately woven chainmil under the dress.

His hair had been groomed to resemble that of the Mother's first child, her daughter, Queen Sunniva. She was said to have been a bit of a tomboy as well as obsessed with waging war at sea. As her name implied, they had placed gold dust in his dark brown, wavy hair as well as on his collar bones.

What a waste of resources, was all he could think of while the Duchess continued her reprimanding.

"Your majesty, please do take these traditions seriously. This is the very foundation of our kingdom and I do hope you did your homework and learned enough about the foreign delegates and their lands. It would do no good if they came all this way only to feel…-ted…and…"

Her words began to phase out of his hearing, muffled by those insistent voices. They had been a constant buzzing in his ear for as long as he could remember but they had never been so loud. They had grown in their insistence ever since the night of the massacre.

Sometimes they got so loud that his head felt like it was going to split open.

"King…King…"

"OUR KING!"

He closed his eyes tight, put a hand to his forehead while using the other to signal to his maids to stop for a moment.

"Your majesty?" the Duchess called, a slight panic in her voice as her hands reached out with the intent to help him. Said hands fell back to her side, remembering her position.

"I'm fine," he muttered, standing back up straight. "Leave me for a moment. I need to get ready."

The maids and the Duchess looked at each other before nodding. "I will call for you when it is time to leave for the throne room. Your majesty." With a bow, she leaves the dressing room with the maids in tow.

He didn't dare sit down, a little worried he might wrinkle the silk, but he needed to do something to relax his mind.

"Call us…King…King…I am here…"

"Just for today, I am begging you for silence." Even with the empty room, he whispered his plea.

It wasn't normal. He knew that hearing such voices was not normal. The words from his own mother told him that. He also knew that these voices were not merely him going mad. They could act out, he'd witnessed it. Their actions being one of the many reasons he lived as a ghost within his own home.

He was not going to be another Mad King. If he were to be honest, he had no idea what kind of King he wanted to be. All he knew was stories of what Kings shouldn't be and novels of what people called their ideal rulers. He wasn't charismatic enough to be beloved by all, he wasn't strong enough to be a great man of battle, he wasn't smart enough to become an all seeing strategist. He wasn't enough and being a child didn't help matters.

He'd never felt so many overlapping emotions in his life. Usually he was able to shut off what he felt and work through the motions but it was becoming increasingly more difficult by the day. He couldn't even discuss these issues with someone. A king couldn't be weak, that was another thing he learned through books. A weak king got killed and he didn't want to die.

"Is it too late to run away?" he said out loud as he looked out of the window, staring down at the lit up front of the castle. Many guests were still arriving, dressed to the highest of luxury. The whole thing made him nauseous.

"Your majesty?" the Duchess cracked the door open after knocking and spoke. "It is time to go in."

He took a deep breath, shushed the voices some more and turned to his etiquette and history teacher.

"Fetch me the cape and let's get this over with."

_______________

Grand Duke Montfort, his father's older brother and a man rarely seen outside his estate, was carrying out the ceremony. He stood beside the throne and stared down at Ísar like the young boy was bothering him by breathing.

The throne had been moved to the banquet hall, apparently without his knowing. Said hall was filled with the nobles of not only his kingdom, but those from allied nations and empires. He was surprised to see people from the Southern Empire as they tended to stay away from the Northern continent even if they make trade deals.

Walking down the middle as they all stared at him was not really doing his nerves any good. Everything in him was screaming at him to just run to the throne, put the shiny hat on and get this done and dusted but he had better self-control than most. At least he hoped he did.

As he got closer to the throne, he caught sight of delegates from the Eastern Empire, Qianlong Empire. Specifically, a child that looked out of place with them. Most of them looked like officials of the court, most likely monks. The surrounded the child who was adorned in luxurious eastern attire, almost like they were shielding them. The child looked older than him, no more than two years. Taller and beefier, but…

Handsome.

They made eye contact, making Ísar nearly falter in his steps. He immediately faced forward and tried to play off the almost-mistake. He could feel his cheeks getting warmer and that was odd for him. He'd never felt embarrassment before.

But even though it was a split second, that child's gaze…It was like there were flames burning behind their dark brown eyes.

All thoughts of that strange child vanished once he finally got to the throne. With each step up the steps, he was handed the ceremonial artifacts.

First step. The silver scepter.

Second. The golden circlet with an emerald in the middle.

Third. The golden orb.

Fourth. The throne.

As he sat on that impossibly huge chair, his back straight and eyes staring up ahead into nothing, the Grand Duke began the ceremony.

"Ísar Enrique Guillaume Jovevski."

Ísar thought he'd never heard his full name said out loud like that. It sounded overly pretentious even to him but it got the room to silence itself almost immediately.

"As you are about to be crowned the 32nd monarch of the kingdom of Ogronevia, give us your oath to your nation and its people."

Ísar took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and spoke. "I, Ísar Enrique Guillaume Jovevskis, son of Magnús Geoffrey Jovevski and Isabella Sofía de Castellón-Jovevski…"

If I have a child they're only getting two names. I'm already out of breath, this is ridiculous.

"…stand before you all, unexpectedly…" that got him some very awkward laughs.

Too soon, I guess.

"…bound by my duty to this realm. I pledge to guide Ogronevia with a heart filled with justice, empathy and compassion. A mind filled with only thoughts about our kingdom and a body that will only be used to fight for our land."

Is she crying? Duchess, please, contain yourself.

"I aim to bring about positive changes and reformations, turning our little island kingdom of cold into a beacon of hope and example for many." He finally caught sight of the child, a little annoyed by the way the child rolled their eyes as he spoke.

"In the face of shadows that may loom, I promise resilience, valor, and a steadfast commitment to our shared destiny. With this oath, I embrace the mantle of sovereignty, mindful of the challenges ahead, and vow to be a beacon against the encroaching darkness."

The cheers were a little too over the top for his liking but they let him breathe out a silent sigh of relief. He'd practiced that oath every day since the funeral.

"Good job," the Grand Duke whispered to him, a reluctant smile on his face. It almost made Ísar smile back. Almost.

The crown was still too big for his head so they placed it on his lap, the Grand Duke making a joke about how he'd grow into it. Ísar wanted to correct him on speaking to the King like that but didn't find it in himself to care that much.

"All hail King Ísar Jovevski! Long live the King!" the Grand Duke started the chant, much to his displeasure.

"Long live the King! Long live the King!"

LONG LIVE OUR ETERNAL KING! EVEN IN DEATH!

Ísar twitched in his seat, the melodic, haunting yet manic voice he'd just heard at the back of his mind sent shivers of fear down his spine.

Sister?