A Royal Duty

The Eve of Coronation

Francis slowly opened his eyes, the warm morning sunlight streaming through the windows and casting a golden glow across his chamber. He stretched, yawned, and swung his legs over the side of the bed, feeling the soft plush carpet beneath his feet.

Just as he was about to stand, he noticed Lucas sitting in the chair beside his bed, sipping a cup of steaming coffee and reading a leather-bound book. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, enticing Francis's senses.

"What the devil are you doing here?" Francis growled, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes. His voice was laced with irritation, a testament to his desire for solitude.

Lucas looked up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Good morning to you too, Your Highness," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Francis scowled, his brow furrowing. "It's not morning yet. It's still bloody dark" he muttered, running a hand through his tousled hair.

Lucas chuckled, setting his book aside. "Ah, but the sun's up, and I figured you'd want to start preparing for the coronation. Time waits for no man, not even the future king." He stood, his movements fluid and deliberate.

Francis groaned, flopping back onto his bed. "Can't it wait?" he pleaded, pulling a pillow over his face.

Lucas's laughter filled the room. "Unfortunately not. We have a busy day ahead. Your tailor is waiting to finalize the coronation attire, and the council wants to review the ceremony details. Not to mention the meeting with the foreign dignitaries." He ticked off each item on his fingers.

Francis threw a pillow at Lucas. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he accused, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Lucas dodged the pillow with ease, his grin still firmly in place. "Maybe a little. After all, it's not every day one gets to see their best friend become king." He paused, his expression turning serious. "You'll make a great king, Francis. You were born for this."

Francis sat up, running a hand through his hair. "I hope so," he said, his voice laced with doubt.

Lucas's eyes narrowed. "You have doubts?"

Francis sighed. "What if I fail? What if I'm not good enough?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

Lucas stepped forward, his hand on Francis's shoulder. "You won't fail. You've been prepared for this your entire life. And besides, you have me to guide you." His smile returned. "Now, shall we get ready? We have a kingdom to run."

Francis nodded, a small smile creeping onto his face. He rose from bed, his movements fluid as he made his way to the bathing area. The servant, Owen, was already prepared, holding a steaming bucket of water and a linen cloth. Francis nodded as Owen bowed and Owen began to pour the water into the large wooden tub.

As the tub filled, Francis shed his nightclothes, letting them fall to the floor. He stood tall, his naked form illuminated by the morning sunlight streaming through the windows. Lucas, sitting on the bed, continued reading his book, accustomed to Francis's casual nudity.

Owen added herbs and rose petals to the water, releasing a soothing aroma into the air. Francis stepped into the tub, sinking into the warm water with a sigh.

"Ah, bliss," Francis murmured, closing his eyes as Owen began to wash his back.

Lucas looked up from his book, his expression thoughtful. "Francis, don't forget the council meeting. They'll want to review the ceremony details."

Francis opened one eye, squinting at Lucas. "I won't forget. But for now, let me savor this moment of peace."

As Owen continued to bathe him, Francis let his thoughts drift to Abigail, recalling their encounter by the river. A smile spread across his face.