Unchosen Crown

ENDGAME

"Hello, Ollie," Eleanor greeted, her voice carrying a serious tone. "Or should I call you Your Majesty?"

Oliver rolled his eyes, knowing she couldn't see him. "Where the hell are you, Mum?"

"I'm in South Africa," she revealed, her tone unexpectedly solemn. "Building medical clinics for children affected by HIV."

The mission sounded noble, but a bitter taste of inconsistency filled Oliver's mouth.

"How can you be so concerned with humanitarian issues when your own children are going through problem after problem, and you've never even bothered to visit us?" he accused, the resentment heavy in his words. "You didn't even care to meet your granddaughter!"

Beside him, Ian's gentle touch on his shoulder offered silent support, his palm radiating comforting warmth through Oliver's shirt, momentarily dissipating the anxiety bubbling inside him.

"That's why I'm calling. I want to make up for lost time," Eleanor said, her voice placid, as if she had rehearsed those words countless times. "Especially with you, Oliver."

"How could you do that?" Oliver questioned, incredulous.

Disbelief washed over Oliver.

He knew well the bitter taste of false promises and, at this point in his life, was accustomed to his mother's absence. However, a small part of him still yearned for her affection and validation, even without knowing if he could truly expect it.

"I read about your recent speech," Eleanor continued, and Oliver detected a hint of regret in her voice. "I know the past few years have been a trial for you, and I'm sorry I haven't been more present. As a member of the royal family, you face unique challenges, and I understand the complexity of the situation."

Those words left Oliver uneasy.

Ian and Laura watched him with curiosity, but Ian soon made a move to leave, gesturing to take Laura with him. Impulsively, Oliver grabbed his wrist, murmuring, "Stay."

Both froze, petrified before him. He needed them there, needed their strength and support to face whatever his mother was about to say.

Anger and frustration took hold of Oliver, as if all the feelings he had tried to avoid regarding his mother's absence finally accumulated, ready to overflow.

His heart raced, his breathing becoming faster with each word she spoke.

"Oliver, you know I spent most of my life in this castle," Eleanor sighed, getting straight to the point. "I know every detail of the Constitution, the political composition, and the royal obligations. My escape was selfish, I admit, but I don't want you to live unhappily, hiding who you really are or facing even greater problems for exposing yourself."

Oliver's expression must have reflected pure shock, as Ian looked at him with a mix of pity and surprise, as if wanting to comfort him but not knowing how.

"You should be free to love whoever you want," she said, her voice as soft as velvet. "Marry him. Leave England. Do whatever you want with your life."

Her words carried the sincerity of a dawn, but a bitter laugh tore from Oliver's throat, ripping through the silence like the striking chime of a bell.

"Are you on another planet? That's impossible!" His voice rose, laden with simmering indignation.

Beside him, Ian tried to approach again, but his determination waned before the invisible barrier of Oliver's reality.

"Abdicate, Oliver," Eleanor dropped the bomb, and the air caught in his throat as if hit by a giant wave. "Name me queen. I'm ready to catch the next flight to London if you agree."