The Crown | "The Moth Prince" fanfic

ৡ 2. The king's crown ৡ

ৡ 2. The king's crown ৡ

Fern always knew they were supposed to be Frenatae's new king, and finally, after sixteen years, they were going to be crowned as one. Even with their white wings and source magic problems, they had survived long enough to get a real crown on the top of their head. To have their dad step aside, and give Fern what they rightfully deserved. Since the moment of birth, they were meant to be here.

Fern stared at their reflection on the mirror, smiling smugly. Now that's who they were. Not the scared child that was worried about not being able to make it, not the sick kid that spoke to leaf crowns or was confined within the walls of the castle. But this. A fairy, the most beautiful one, with their auburn hair flowing and fluffy all around, with their white wings proudly spreaded behind them, attaviated with the softest silk attire their dressmakers had ever designed.

Ah, yes. Fern was about to show off to everyone what the kingdom once used to call them weak, or uncapable. They may not be as powerful or renowned as their aunt, but what about it? They were going to be everyone's king either way. The crown would fit no matter what.

"Your majesty?" someone called, knocking softly at Fern's bedroom door. They made an annoyed sound, turning around.

"What now? All the preparations are ready, aren't they?" they asked, crossing their arms. They could feel the hesitation in the air before the servant opened the door, carrying a bouquet of roses buds on his arms. Fern smiled slightly at the sight of them. Yet another way of rubbing it all off on their dad's face.

"The ceremony is about to start. I have..."

"Give them to me," they interrupted, already taking the buds out of the servant's arms. With very experienced movements, Fern made them bloom, one by one, in the most beautiful display the servant had ever seen. They made sure to make the flowers look pretty... But not enough to outshine Fern themselves.

Of course, though, every display from Fern's part was the most beautiful anyone would ever see. Even if it was just them walking through the halls, or making flowers blossom. Even if it was just them flying around all of Frenatae's three islands, maneuvering in the sky, feeling the wind on their hair and the freedom on their limbs and the way their chest tightened in excitement while they soared through the air...

Ferm smiled at their servant's wide eyes, and handed back the bouquet, now filled with shiny red roses. "Off we go, shall we?"

When he was little, he didn't know what he was supposed to do. Being sick? Sucking at source magic? Having white wings? No one would tell him, and it took him years to figure it out. But now... They knew. Fern was meant to fly. Fern was meant to be worshiped. Fern was meant to govern, white wings or not, focal magic or not, illness or not. And the people... They were simply meant to be proud of them.

And even if they aren't, well, the crown would fit no matter what.

"I told you I was going to give you pretty stuff, didn't I?" Fern asked in a smug tone, staring intensely at the crown in front of them. It sparkled under the spring light, similar to their father's, with three peaks at the front and a few yellow gems decorating its surface.

Their people, all expectant, watched them as they took the crown with both their hands, lifting it carefully to place it on top of their head. Their parents were also there. Their mom had an indecipherable expression on her face that looked like when he kept giving her bloomed buds instead of unknotting a rope. But Fern didn't care. Instead, they shot a glance directly at their father. Arched an eyebrow. And smiled.

"There isn't a more beautiful thing than me."

Then, there was pain.

The second the crown touched their head, Fern felt as if a lightning had struck right through them. Suddenly, all they could see was white, and they couldn't breathe, as if someone had pushed them into the water and kept them there. They saw a scared child, coughing after running too much, struggling to catch their breath, panicked, petrified, alone.

There were screams, too, but Fern had no idea if they came from their own voice, or if it was the kingdom's reaction upon what was going on. Fern didn't care. They could feel their wings being ripped from their body, melting like someone was slowly setting fire to each and every one of their cells, crumbling all at once; and the pain on their back was almost as terrible as what they felt inside their chest.

Fern registered their knees hitting the floor, but their head hurt too much, and they felt lighter than before, and they tried to stand up somehow, but they lost their balance and collapsed on the ground. The crown on their head felt too tight, and even the slight touch of air was too much for their skin.

Fern's head was spiraling out of control. His ears ringed, and after who knows how long, they gathered enough force of will to lift their hand and touch the crown they had on. They felt something warm dripping from their fingers, and they noticed the crown was now full of thorns, and they had gripped it too hard and they were bleeding, and then Fern wished this was all a nightmare, just a nightmare.

«Why would you do this to me?», they thought to themselves, to the crown, to whoever could listen. Their body still slighltly spammed, and they felt empty inside, and they immediately noticed that all the magic had been drained from them.

Fern was tired. They felt the crown presence with every movement.

«The crown would fit no matter what...».

And it did.