A Modern Fairytale

I genuinely look forward to it.

Long, long ago, Valerie managed to keep her promise where it involved the word "tonight"—indeed, she never did give up. After leaving King Alasdair, the fairy landed near the two false angels playing chess. Although it was nothing Ulric couldn't know, the semi-fallen left the other two to their discussion anyway, opting to busy himself with other matters, presumably somewhere dark and underground where he normally stayed unless his presence was required, requested, or preferred.

"I beat him in three out of five games," Iefan said with a sparkle in his eye, "It was close."

"That's a good thing," Valerie replied, "Means he's taking you seriously."

After thinking about it for a second, the false angel nodded. "I guess so. I...Valerie, can I say something?"

"Of course."

"I think I've grown a lot these years."

"You have. Even Ulric is taking you seriously—on a chess board too. You're not far."

"...far? From where?"

That was when the fairy told him what she and the King discussed: the throne.

"Me?" At first, the false angel questioned his suitability. No, not really; he wasn't questioning it, it was just his instinctive reaction. In the next moment, with his next blink, his expression had already returned to its normative state of sincere stillness. "His Majesty has started growing gray hairs," he noted.

"Do you play for him often?" she asked.

"Yes, just as much as before. It hasn't changed."

"He'll be expecting you tonight as well," she said, "Though I don't think you have to come up with an answer immediately."

With that said, Valerie walked on ahead, and she was about to wave when Iefan stopped her.

"Wait."

"Hm?"

"Valerie, I think...I'd like to be king."

At that moment, the fairy's smile told him everything he needed to know: everything had been planned.

☆☆☆

My last moments with His Majesty felt very much like my first. What seemed like a lifetime ago, I was born into this kingdom as a false angel—one without history, without memories of what I had been before that moment, without even a full name. Back then, standing near me was the majestic King Alasdair in his royal robe. I was at the piano then, and my fingers had just ceased dancing on the keys. I knew, when our eyes met, that this was the king I would serve for all his life—or mine, whichever ended first. I had known all along that simply because I am a false angel, I would be more physically capable of...many things, than him, but at that moment, his aura far overshadowed my own. I could not see it, but I could feel it: the warmth of the morning sun seeping into my soul, obliging me to stand at once and part from the piano, only to sink to my knees before my King, one whose name I had barely learned. In response to my servitude, he extended to me his hand; I took it, and was determined never to let go.

Indeed, that is the power of King Alasdair Theon Castemont. My intuition was firm, and even when I learned I hadn't always been a false angel, that conviction remained true.

"My King, I am here." Speaking softly, I took a seat by his bedside. At the sound of my voice and perhaps the intrinsic healing power within it, His Majesty stirred. He opened his eyes, the clarity in his emerald gaze still unmistakably distinct despite the once-golden hair that was now all gray. I could count the wrinkles on his face, but they did nothing to dim his light.