ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ᴍᴀɢᴇ 一 ɢᴇʀᴀʟᴛ ᴏꜰ ʀɪᴠɪᴀ

𝕏𝕀𝕍. 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕒'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣

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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏᴜʀᴛᴇᴇɴ

ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛʀɪɢᴀ'ꜱ ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ

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"I'm not taking the crown."

       The death of three royals struck panic and fear throughout the Kingdom of Kattegat. A few weeks have already passed, but no official ruler was crowned yet to take over after King Hadley Sarnorin.

"You must!"

       It was difficult to begin again, once more. It was difficult to stand and function as a normal human being. It was difficult readjusting to life. It was difficult to be okay, because clearly, Eleanora wasn't. But the most difficult part of it all was the little boy that clung onto the princess' crimson-stained nightgown, wailing over the death of his mother.

"Can't you understand?! I'd only be putting everyone else in danger if I take over."

       Isobel's death was a shock to all. She had no magical power of any sort, nor was she the type of person to hold grudges or have enemies. She was a traveller who migrated to Kattegat from France. The woman was not poor or rich, just... average. But Irvin fell in love with the average French woman. The death of Isobel Sarnorin proved to Eleanora that anyone associated with her family would be targeted for death, no matter how normal they may be. The death of her aunt, the mother of Johnathan, and the wife of Irvin was Eleanora's fault. The death of her parents was Eleanora's fault. Well, that's what she told herself at least.

"You must be Queen, Nora. You are the daughter of Hadley and Corsliss."

"And you are the brother of my father. You have every right to the throne as I do."

"You know that is not true."

       Eleanora blamed herself. Maybe if she hadn't been intrigued with the way of magic, the princess wouldn't have begged her mother to teach her. Maybe if she remembered to shut the door like her mother had asked, then Krauss would not have passed her bedroom and heard the story of Eleanora's elf blood. Maybe then, she could have saved her family almost 15 years later. You were just a child, her uncle liked to remind her, but it never worked. Because it was her fault.

"Please." Eleanora begged with her eyes, tears of utter frustration pouring down her soft cheeks. "I don't want anyone else to die. Please."

       Irvin knew he had to, for the sake of his son and god-daughter. The younger Sarnorin never wanted to be King; he felt as though he lacked the proper attributes to be one, something he envied of elder brother. Yet here Irvin stood, in front of all of Kattegat, with his eyes shut tight as the priest placed the King's crown delicately over his head.