Stories and Poems

The Coronation (prose)

The courtyard is filled with music and laughter. Lords and ladies in their finest clothes dance and gossip while gorging themselves on the finest foods and drinks. An air of excitement surrounds everyone as the anticipation mounts, everyone waiting to see the prince. An undercurrent of sadness flows through the crowd though, the circumstances under which they have gathered still fresh in everyone's minds. The courtyard defies the slight melancholy tone with its elegant decoration. Along the walls of the surrounding castle are topiaries and flower bushes wound with tiny glowing lights. Steppingstone paths wander around the courtyard, floating over the soft moss lawn, all of them ending up at a pond in the center. Large stones surrounding the water prevent anyone from falling in, the lily pads floating peacefully on the surface providing hiding places for the beautiful koi swimming gracefully below. In the center of the pond is an elegant round gazebo, lit up with simple paper lanterns. A steppingstone path cuts across the water leading to the elegant structure. The sun setting behind the walls of the walls of the castle turns the water a rich shade of red, the light from the lanterns glinting off the surface. Fireflies lighting up the night, add a magical feel to the air.

The buzz of a trumpet cuts through the clamor, and the guests falls silent. One by one they turn their attention to the main doors of the castle, waiting impatiently for them to open. A loud bang breaks the silence, followed by the groan of the heavy doors opening. A tall, broad-shouldered man stands silhouetted by the glow of torches, and a wave of sorrow passes over the crowd at the prince's resemblance to the late king. When he steps into the light from the courtyard the gathered aristocrats are taken aback by how young he is. He is only twenty, but the sudden death of his father has caused him to assume his rightful position as king early. The crowd of aristocrats watches silently as their prince walks towards the gazebo, each of them wondering if he will be like his father. Everyone hopes he will and hopes that he will continue the era of prosperity in Evermore. He wears a dark navy suit, threaded with gold and tied together by a black cape, a sign that he is still mourning the late king. His chin length blonde hair is pulled back in a half ponytail, and his brown eyes, shining with sadness and determination, are focused on the gazebo. There are two figures waiting for him, his mother who smiles sadly, and the archbishop with his signature blank expression. When the prince reaches the gazebo he kneels at the archbishop's feet, head bowed. 

"Prince Cornelius Araldson," the archbishop says. "Do you swear to justly uphold the laws of this land, and to enforce punishment on all who may break them?"

"I swear," Prince Cornelius's voice rings out, as sure and powerful as his late father's, not a hint of hesitation or sadness in it.

"Do you swear to put the wellbeing of your people above your own, and any others'?"

"I swear."

"Do you swear to do the best you can as the ruler of this country?" The archbishop asks, as everyone holds their breath.

"I swear," Prince Cornelius says so strongly, people would later debate if it had been shouted.

"Then by the power I possess, I name you King of Evermoore." The archbishop places an elegant golden crown on King Cornelius's head. When he stands up and turns around, the crowed erupts in cheers.

The new king stands and looks out over the gathered nobles as a new age starts. He silently promises to them and himself that he will strive to be just as good a king as his father was.

"I know none of us were ready to meet a new ruler, lord knows I certainly wasn't," King Cornelius says with a sad laugh once the cheers had subsided. A murmur passes through the crowd as people softly agree. Once the courtyard is silent again, the king continues. "But I swear to you, by the soul of my father I will do my best to serve this country and its inhabitants."

His speech, however short, struck a chord with the nobles. Until now they had believed Cornelius was prepared to lead, some even believing he had already been helping his late father. Now they knew the truth, though. Cornelius was just as unprepared for the king's death as anyone else present. The gap between royal and noble seems to shrink, and the gathered aristocrats feel a new sense of support and liking for Cornelius. Something in the universe shifted, and everyone felt that this coronation was important. The guests knew then that King Cornelius would be different. He may not have been aware, but the aristocrats and nobles around him knew that he would be a wonderful king someday.