The Legend of the Jedi Queen

50. Queen of Artorias

The rain did not fall until the coronation had begun. Princess Miri, about to become Queen, stepped out in a light green and white and gold gown, her tiara not physically there, but there was a crown of braids formed for her nonetheless. Nellith re-used her scarlet dress from the ball, and could still feel Tallis's kiss in the fabric, like an echo in the Force.

Miri's mischief was gone. Her thin face was solemn as she stood on the crystal precipice. Nellith was one of the few who got to sit behind her, looking out to the crowd of Artorians and delegates from the other factions.

Counselor Traytor had an elegant vibroblade, to pretty to be of any use in a battle, but perfect for the swearing in of Princess Miranda Galfridian to become Queen Miranda Galfridian.

The storm clouds had brewed all day, but they were lucky that all that came was a little fall of rain. It could not hurt anyone, not now.

"We are gathered here for the coronation of our new queen," Counselor Traytor began, reading from an elegant red book with golden pages and calligraphy only surpassed by Ben Solo's. "Because of the tragedy, the attempted Massacre of Artorias, we must bid our King Ambrose and Queen Arcadia farewell into the next adventure. May the Force be with them."

"May the Force be with them," the crowd repeated, Nellith herself included.

"May their spirit shine down on their only surviving daughter, Princess Miranda Tamora Galfridian," Counselor Traytor continued. "And bless her with the wisdom and their policy of diplomacy that unfortunately was taken advantage of."

Nellith felt a surge of anger, and sensed a similar surge from Miri. The king and queen had not passed because of their diplomacy, but because they were willing to make a deal that would kill many and throw the galaxy into darkness to save their sorry behinds.

The crowd felt the same way apparently, given the dissatisfied grumble that emanated from them.

"Our princess may be young, but she is courageous, and her courage in the face of yesterday morning's danger will guide her to lead Artorias out of this shadowy twilight, and into the dawn once more," Counselor Traytor said. "May it be so."

"May it be so," the crowd repeated.

"Then let us get down to business," Counselor Traytor said. He looked down to his red and gold book, eyes searching for the next lines. He nodded when he found it, and looked up to Miri.

"Princess Miranda Tamora Galfridian, daughter of King Ambrose Galfridian and Queen Arcadia Evenstar," Counselor Traytor began. "Third in the line of succession, now thrust into first. I know you never planned to take the throne. That being said. . . Are you ready?"

Miri's amber eyes were uncertain for a moment, then glimmered with renewed resolve.

"I am," she said.

"Do you, Princess Miranda, vow to cherish Artorias, and treat her with the respect she deserves as a planet of ancient beauty?" Counselor Traytor asked.

"Of course."

"Do you vow to protect our world with your life?" Counselor Traytor asked.

"I've already shown that, haven't I?" Miri asked, a sly grin on her face.

Nellith beamed at seeing her friend suddenly regaining her spark.

"Sufficiently," Counselor Traytor agreed as he flipped a page in his book. "Do you promise to rule your people with the dignity and compassion they deserve?"

"All that and more," Miri said.

"Then I, Counselor Zacharias Traytor, pronounce you no longer a princess," Traytor said as he set the book down and picked up the vibroblade sword.

Miri got on her knees, looking confident and ready for her new responsibilities. Traytor touched the blade once to both shoulders.

"I dub you Queen Miranda, of Artorias," Counselor Traytor said. "May she ever reign in peace."

"May she ever reign in peace," the people repeated— but the words were hollow. The time for peace was gone.

Nellith had her own idea. She stood, not thinking twice.

"Long live the Queen!" she shouted at the top of her lungs.

"LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!" The crowd roared, and confetti and hats and scarves were thrown into the air as the rain fell its hardest. But no one cared. The rain would bring Artorias back to life— may it be.