In only three days time the Pope arrived at the palace. He and all the nobility of Europe, it seemed, were there for the king's burial. He would be laid to rest in the Royal Cemetery on the edge of the palace grounds. Every one of the Tomlinson Royals were buried there and some day, Louis would be laid to rest there as well. I cringed at the thought.
Along with the burial, the palace was flying in motion getting prepared for Louis' coronation, set to take place the day after. Louis had stood firm against his mother's wishes and arranged for me to be near him as he was crowned. We were currently in the throne room, the day before the funeral, practicing for the coronation. The Pope had already given me more than a few strange looks, but mostly he was happy and joked with Louis as he instructed him.
"Then this is where you will come stand after I've placed the crown on your head. You'll take Harry's hand here, well, traditionally that's where your wife would be so you don't have to hold his hand," the Pope added as a side note, but Louis grabbed my hand anyway, "and you'll walk out as everyone shouts and cheers. Then you just go on up to the balcony and make your grand speech. The commoners will already be gathered there waiting for you."
"That's it?" Louis asked, sounding somewhat relieved.
"That's it." The Pope confirmed.
"Splendid." Louis breathed out and dropped my hand.
We'd been here for a few hours, running through everything. The usually empty throne room was full of rows of benches in preparation for the ceremony. The large golden throne had been cleaned even more spotlessly. The entire palace was being scrubbed brick by brick to make everything suitable in the short time they had.
"God bless you Louis. You've already been through so much in your short life. May you live a long prosperous life. One filled with all the joy and happiness God can offer a man." The Pope spoke in his strange accent and Louis nodded to him.
"Thank you Sir." He replied to the little speech.
The Pope took a deep breath and smiled at the both of us. He then brought his hands together and joined them in front of him.
"I must be getting back to my quarters, it's almost time for some evening reflection and prayer." He spoke wistfully then bid us good day and left.
Once the Pope and all of his guards were gone, Louis and I were alone in the room. The echo of the great doors closing was heard as Louis started slowly walking toward the throne. Three ornately decorated chairs stood proudly upon a slightly raised pedestal. The King's Throne sat in the middle, made of solid gold and royal purple velvet. On the right, stood the Queen's Throne. It was more feminine, dainty. It looked to be made of gold, but really only the outside shone brilliantly, plated in the precious metal. Then, on the left of the King's Throne stood a smaller, less flashy version of it. This was reserved for the Crowned Prince, the next in line to throne of England. It had belonged to Louis for so long, but tomorrow, it would be given to his unborn first son.
Louis walked right up to the King's Throne and sat gently on the cushions. He smiled as he looked out into the room. I briefly remembered the night I arrived at the palace. After his birthday celebration Louis showed me everything, explaining, in detail, everything he knew about each place and item I saw. The throne room had been our last stop, because Louis had determined it would be the perfect grand finale.
I ran behind Louis as he charged through the corridors of his home. My sides hurt from running so much, but I didn't dare release the hand Louis had offered me when we snuck from his bed chamber to go exploring. He was my savior from that awful little cage I'd been cramped into for a year, and I vowed to never be the first to break our connected hands.
