Silvestre Pendragon

The Ceremony

Nerves threatened to suffocate Silvestre, they clung to her chest and squeezed her thundering heart- or maybe it was just the tight corset? Evelyn adjusted Silvestre's gown once more, sweeping her delicate hands over the fine silk.
"All ready Silvestre" She said, satisfied.
Silvestre rolled back her shoulders, lifted her chin and took a deep breath, before nodding to the guards to open the huge doors.
A beautiful symphony of strings played as Silvestre slowly strode down the aisle, a colourful crowd of well dressed people stood up to welcome the Princess of Camelot; most of whom Silvestre hardly knew.

As the music quietened, Silvestre knelt on the cushion before the throne. Her gaze cautiously moving to her left where the King and her brother sat. Neither of them gave a nod of encouragement or a warm smile, instead she received a cold glare from her brother, Albert.
Don't mess this up Little Sister.
His piercing blue eyes, shooting arrows, his tall lanky body forced into a knife straight posture and his dark hair neatly combed into position. Albert's features mirrored those of the King, a younger, more sour version. Silvestre almost despised Albert for all his resemberlance to her father, for she had nothing. Her face was the memory of a dead woman. Her mother. The face her father couldn't even bare to glance at.

A loud cough silenced the murmurs of the room, bringing attention to the croaky voice of the old man.
"Thank you all for coming. We are here today to witness the crowning of Silvestre Pendragon, second Heir of Camelot." His voice was hoarse and tired. "Do you accept the
responsibility?" He questioned.

"I do." Silvestre recited.

"If the King or the Prince are unable to take the thrown, will you accept the Kingdom of Camelot and rule fairly as queen?"

"I will." Silvestre vowed. Pride, hope, love, excitement: the feelings pumping through her as she said the words, like blood in the arteries. Her hands began tingling, she tightened her fist in attempt to conceal the joyful sparks on her finger tips.

"Will you obey all the laws of Camelot?"

All the laws? Silvestre thought. A tight pang of guilt stabbed at her hands, cutting and tearing at the flesh.

Law 221 - Magic is not permitted within the Kingdom of Camelot. Will result in the death penalty.

The heat died from her palms as she dug her nails into the skin, if they knew...

"I promise to always act with Camelot's best intentions. " Silvestre countered. The old man's eyes creasing in confusion,

"Will you obey all the laws of Camelot?" He repeated. Silvestre hesitated, a short, deafening silence rang through the room.

"I will. " She lied.

Silvestre kept her head steady as she accepted the weight of her curse and the crown upon her head.