Kingdom of isolation - you can't hide

Six - Alexander

Alexander

Age 13

The smell of earth permeates the air like a thick humid cloud. Droplets of rain run in rivulets down the solemn looking faces surrounding the unusually small casket, their umbrellas long forgotten as they watch it descend into the hollow ground that's three sizes too big.

A pity, really. It's empty. That doesn't stop the kings and queens from gathering here today in solidarity, dressed in their regal attires. Leaders of our world stand together in funerals yet leave no stone unturned on other occasions—very bemusing to see such displays of hypocrisy. Different emblems on their armour to let everyone know who they are. Members of the council give their condolences one by one to the grieving family in the form of gold coins that are to be placed on the headstone for later. One from every member, a total of 12. It is a token of respect for the deceased, a tradition that is centuries old. Meaningless in practicality, but a tradition nonetheless.

The death of a young life has unified them all, it seems. Kingdoms and councils alike, they're all here in large numbers from every continent. Those that couldn't make it sent flowers. I wonder for how long though, before they resume their wicked little games to see who can attain more power and influence, who can acquire more pieces on the chessboard to stay relevant. That's what it's always been about. They all want more power, ways to overthrow the strongest kingdom. The death of a royal member works to favour their scheming minds, a way to exploit any weakness the grieving family might cough up.

All of this because of one tiny human being who belonged to the second strongest kingdom in the entire world. The little princess of the Hart kingdom who was lost to the sea a few weeks ago, her body never recovered for the funeral. That is what they've led everyone to believe, going as far as searching the entire pacific ocean to find her little body but coming up empty. The possibility of finding the Loch ness monster out there is far greater.

I watch the impenetrable James Hart carefully, noting the anger radiating off him in waves as he stands a good few feet away from his weeping bride. His royal attire reserved for funerals soaks in the rainwater greedily, the lion emblem on his chest a vicious contrast to the king's current state. Yet he is unmoving, unaffected by the rain drenching him as he stares at the casket meant for his daughter. It seems as though the king is refusing to believe that this is real. A big man, James Hart easily towers over everyone around him like a gladiator among puny mortals. His strong presence demands submission from everyone in his vicinity, a king even without the crown. Born to rule and be loved as a mighty king. I admire the man as much as I want to annihilate him. Right now, it's neither. I would pity him if I could.

I see the way Athena Hart trembles as she tries to avoid looking at anyone but the empty casket, her hand holding the deceased's brother like he'll disappear too. The distance between the queen and her distraught husband piques my curiosity ever so slightly. Oftentimes, the loss of a child can drift the parents apart because they feel angry at each other for letting their child be harmed. Other times, it can bring them closer. It seems to be the former in this case, to an extent. My eyes find themselves looking at the young Caspian Hart who mirrors his father, physically and in the current state, choosing to hold his mother's hand while the other one remains in a permanent fist, his face an unreadable map. But readable enough for me to see what the real issue is. He's mad at his mother but chooses to be supportive, unlike his father. Interesting.

More people surround the casket as it lowers further, expressing nothing short of grief for the deceased, including myself, or more like a mirror of myself, Nikolas, who stands behind his best friend Caspian. My mother stands closely behind her friend Athena, paying her respects just like everyone else. Athena leans into her touch slightly, feeling soothed by the comfort she provides. Ma's like that, warm and welcoming, never holding any grudges for too long. Despite their strained relationship, Ma chooses to stand with her and lend her a shoulder to cry on. Something the king should be doing instead. Grandparents of the deceased also stand nearby, composed but silently shedding their tears. It's not befitting to see royalty cry, even if it's for their loved ones.