The Veil of the Throne *HOLD

The Coronation

"Long live the Queen!" The crowd cheers. The Pope nods at her, the new Greethian Queen. She sits on her throne, the blood of the late King Faustus coursing through her veins as never before. She had become the Queen, the one and only absolute monarch of Greeth.

She looks to her side, and Ryn, her humble lady-in-waiting, reassuring her with a warm smile. She couldn't let them see the weak, fragile girl who was still, in secret—distraught, afraid and still mourning the death of her dearly beloved father, King Faustus.

Fifteen days ago, her father, the King, alongside the Greethian soldiers had left for war, in a bid to protect the sovereignty of the Greethian state from invasion by the Islamic empire. Eleven days ago, her father's head was returned to her, bloody, and on a pike, murdered and humiliated after death. It was said that the King's dying wish was for the Emperor, Abdel, of the Moslem Empire, was for him to take his eyes off Greeth.

She hated him. She despised him.

"I shall retire to my chambers, council men. Enjoy the feast on my behalf."

** Anne's Royal Chamber
The new Queen takes off her jewelry as she stares deeply into the mirror, Ryn at her side. Ryn knew exactly what was on her mind, but still, they sit in the comforting silence. Anne gets up from her wooden stool, crafted by her father himself.

"Do you think he is resting? Will his soul ever attain salvation?" She asks Ryn.

"Of course, your majesty. The King was a good man. A great ruler. I'm sure he's happy, and at rest, seeing how well you've handled things in the palace, and the state, for the past few days."

"I doubt myself, Ryn. Am I up to the task? Will I be a worthy Queen?" She grabs her chemise, as she holds her tears back. "I was not ready to be Queen!"

"But you are now. You must take responsibility because it is your duty, my Queen. Your God given birth right."

"That man murdered my father!" She yells, the tears rushing from the corners of her eyes. She wondered why Abdel murdered her father in such a cruel way. After all, her father was only going to engage if only they attacked first. "He looked for a peaceful way out. He didn't want to shed any blood!"

"But they were deceived. Abdel tricked them."

"Oh, yes. He did. That is what he knows best, and for the rest of my life, I shall pray to God for him to suffer an even crueler fate than what my father had endured."

"I beg you to calm down, your majesty."

"I shall. Eventually."

** Night fall, The Cathedral in the palace

"Salutate Rufum ex animo precor ut cum abiisset, o Deus meus fatger Requiem aeternam dona. Duce ingrediantur portas ut caelum mihi fortitudinem meam. Et ego ingrediar et egrediar coram populo tuo ut ad opus mihi faciendum." Anne prays to God, for her father, and for the grace to lead Greeth in the right path.

"Your majesty." She hears, and she turns around to have a look. "Lord Harret." He bows. She acknowledges his greeting. "What brings you here?" She asks him.

"Well, I came to pray for my sister. She's just had a child, but she's sick. We fear she may die." He responds.

"I'm sorry. It's never too late to pray. I will join you, and intercede on your behalf." She tries to console him. Lord Harret had been one of the late King's consultants. Although young in age, Lord Harret's take on political matters were very plausible. He begins, and she joins in. His prayers were silent, and so were hers.

*
After the prayer, Lord Harret walks her out of the church.

"Thank you. I have faith that your sister will recover."

"I pray she does. I love her."

Anne smiles at him. To an extent, she knew how he felt even though she had no siblings of her own. Ryn was like a sister to her, and she knew she'd  be just as sad as he was, if something horrible were to befall her.

"Are you ready to attend your first matter in court, tomorrow?"

She exhales. "I have to be. This isn't a matter of I have to be ready. I must be ready."

He nods in agreement. "You will have to command the flags be taken down before you proceed tomorrow."

"Well, I am not done mourning my father. The flag will stay up until I'm ready." She turns to leave, not wanting to discuss anything further.

"Your majesty!" Lord Harret calls. She pauses to listen to him.

"Leaving the flag up will raise questions against your position, your emotional state, thereby questioning your reign."

She eyes him from head to toe, trying to understand what exactly, and where exactly he was heading to. "How is that possible? This is my birthright. It's not something that can be debated."

"A grieving Queen can be called a mad one. If questions about your mental or emotional state arise, the throne can be at stake and there are many, many men who will take advantage of this to get the throne."

"Are you one of them?" She asks. Before he can respond, she continues, "My mental state? No one will dare take the right to grieve my father away from me, and anyone who dares spread rumors that I'm out of my mind because I decide to mourn my father, as I should, will bear the consequences." She storms off, feelings of uncertainty, doubt and fear engulfing her. She had been Queen not up to one day, but only a few hours, and her authority was already being questioned.

***
Anne's Chambers

"I was just making your bath, your Grace." Charlotte, her lady in waiting states. She rushes to her and begins to undress her.

"Where is Ryn?" Anne asks.

"She went to the kitchen to oversee what is being made for dinner, your Grace." As she undresses, she takes the bowl of roses, and pours some more into the water.

"Are you alright, your Grace?"

"I'll be fine with a moment alone." She responds, getting agitated. She enters the bath, slightly agitated. Charlotte leaves.

Anne begins to cry, as she reminisces the awful image of her father's head, sent to her on a pike. She hated Abdel. She despised him that even she, feared that her hatred was enough to send her to the abyss of hell.