༶•┈┈⛧┈♛Foxgloves and Greenleaves ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

Chapter 8: Miranna

Author's note: Listen to https://youtu.be/VdXuDK2mPBY as you read this chapter.

I run through the hallways, anxious to meet Legolas for breakfast. My dress billows as it catches the wind, slowing me down. My satin slippers, which sadly replaced my leather boots, slap against the floor and echo through the halls. Pat, pat, pat.

"Curse this castle and its many corridors." I whisper in annoyance. "Where on Middle Earth is the dining room?"

My stomach roars, begging me to fill it with food. I make a few turns and a couple of trips down the stairs then retrace my steps to my room. This time, I make a left turn and a right turn and find myself in the throne room, the last place where I want to be.

Instead of its blue beauty, black flags hang down from the high ceiling. Soldiers and guards line up on either side of the room, heads bowed. My stomach grumbles again, but not out of hunger.

I march up to the nearest guard, nearly out of breath. "Where is the king? Aren't you supposed to be making your rounds?"

The soldier looks up at me, teary eyed. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, as if to delay his words. "My lady, the King is dead."

My heart stops, but only for a split second. My blood, which once ran freely through my veins, freezes. No. No, no, no, no, NO! He cannot be dead. He was just alive last night!

"H-how?" I ask, listening to the blood rush to my ears. "He-he was just alive hours ago. How can he be dead?"

"He died in his sleep just last night. I suppose his emotions finally won in the end."

My godfather? No. He was so happy to see me.  I hold my head in my hands, breathing erratically.

"My Queen?" The soldier whispers, his voice quivering with uncertainty. "What will we do?"

I look at the soldier, dumbfounded. "What did you just call me?"

"My Queen?"

"I am not  your queen."

"Are you not heir to the throne?"

"I said, I am not your queen." At least not yet.

"What do we do now? We have no ruler to lead us."

"Inform the people of the news. Arrange a proper burial for the former king of Delmaris."

As the early morning sun came and was replaced by heavy rain, a proper burial was held for my godfather. Villagers, sailors, court officials, and even Legolas came to honor the King. All of Delmaris gather around his grave, where past members of royalty were buried. Many elves gave long, emotional eulogies while some simply cried. Mine, on the other hand, was a mixture of both crying and talking.

 What have I done to have things and people stolen from me so quickly?

I do my best to comfort the villagers, who took the King's death deeply. While they sobbed about their deceased king, I take the chance to know and understand the elves I will soon rule. 

"My lady?" The steward, whose name I later found out was Velos, appears by my side. "When shall we host your coronation?"

"We can host it later." I answer. "Right now, the people need to mourn for their king. Don't coronations take a while to prepare?"

"My lady, we've been preparing and planning since the death of your mother and the regression of the king. We can host it the day after tomorrow at the earliest."

I gulp. "Oh, um. Of course. That would be alright."

"My lady, if you're not ready, we can host it much later-"