Falaise

The Coronation of a King

Very last minute update tonight; Sorry, I'm kinda too angered by the rise of fascism to write gay fics right now.

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It was the first time ever since their separation in Domfront that Buggy left Crocodile and Mihawk's side. The Duke was in good hands with the Dark King, Gaban, and two of the most trusted guards of the castle.

The knights would have wanted to accompany Buggy, but the man had insisted upon going alone, claiming that he needed this moment with Rayleigh, and that it would be good for them to stay apart for half a day. Crocodile and Mihawk did not share his opinion, but respected his decision despite their disapproval.

It was clear that the three men suffered from separation anxiety, equally terrified of losing sight of one another and being unable to act should anything happen. Still, even though they were not ever supposed to be apart in the near future, they couldn't satisfy themselves with the situation, and needed to ease the anxiety right away.

Rayleigh did not talk about their destination during the trip, but he didn't need to for Buggy to know that it had something to do with Roger.

The blue-haired man was the first to get out of the cart when they arriver, his eyes darting around trying to see if he was meant to recognise the place. He didn't.

Rayleigh followed, stepping in the tall grass and leading Buggy towards the edge of the cliff. The sea-spray reminded Buggy of the last time he had stood on the edge of a cliff. Everything he had thought he'd lost, now his, as he contemplated the resting place of the King he would inherit the throne from.

Rayleigh let him look around for a while, before he finally spoke up. 'Roger has no grave. He didn't want one. I followed his instructions. He wanted his body to be thrown into the ocean, from the cliff. We did it, Gaban, Crocus, and I. He didn't want anybody else here, didn't want the letters to reach you before his body could be gone.'

The white-haired man closed his eyes, 'He has always refused to be buried, always claiming that he'd miss the cold air,' amusement coloured his voice as he said the last part of his sentence, 'and that it would be harder to hear us through the layers of dirt, should we want to tell him a story.' Rayleigh added, recounting Roger's words as he replayed the scene in his head.

Buggy remained silent, digesting the words. He wasn't really surprised by Roger's decision, mostly stunned by the emotions overwhelming him when learning about what had happened in this place.

'You know how important freedom was to him,' Rayleigh said after a while, looking Buggy in the eyes.

'Yeah.' Buggy said, the words barely coming out. There was a lump in his throat, and he was trying to hold back his tears.

It was different to know that his father was dead, and to stand in the place where he rested, hearing Rayleigh talk about Roger's wishes regarding his final resting place.

Buggy had always known that Roger was sick, and became aware of its fatality as a pre-teen, Crocus' visits to the royal room never ending at the time.

Buggy had accepted Roger's mortality, and the helplessness of knowing that nothing could change it. When he left England, he also had to accept that he probably wouldn't be able to be by Roger's side when he would die.

In a way, receiving the letter was like the fall of the sword of Damocles, the final most painful moment before it would be replaced by peace. The latter had yet to happen, but Buggy could feel it getting closer.

He stepped towards the ledge, taking a proper look at the blue sea. Thoughts of Cabourg prevented him from having a fresh outlook on Roger's choice, but weirdly enough, it also comforted him. To know that they both shared a certain connection, both the targets of a specific pull, longing for the serenity and the lulling of the bottom of a cliff where stones and froth met. At this very moment, though, Buggy did not envy Roger.