Dangerous Aaliyah

To Rest a King

Aaliyah’s Point of View

Morning came in a buzz. I hardly slept last night, my mind refusing to accept the fact that both my parents were dead, and I was an orphan at twenty-three.

A loud knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts, and I stood up to answer it.

It was Indiana, my personal maid, holding a large, neatly wrapped, fancy nylon bag.

“Good morning, my princess. This is your cloth for your father’s funeral. May his soul rest in perfect peace,” she said gently.

I nodded in response, too tired to speak.

But she wasn’t done. “My princess, I advise you to start taking your bath immediately. It’s almost nine, and people will soon start coming to pay their last respects. Kindly alert me when you’re done so I can bring in your breakfast and usher in the makeup team.”

“Thank you so much, Indiana. I appreciate it,” I murmured weakly.

She nodded, handed me the nylon, and left quickly.

Soon, I was prepared. My face shone with makeup and glam. The black gown I wore, adorned with silver stones, was a gift from the queen of Saudi Arabia as a condolence gesture, perfect for the funeral. I covered my face with a black veil and held a black purse. I knew I would be greeting many people, so I wore fancy gold slippers to complement my jewelry.

I stood in front of the mirror and admired myself. My lips were covered in red lipstick, and my nails matched in color.

The honking of cars outside reminded me it was time to step out. I sprayed on some perfume—my favorite, Yara, which my dad always brought back for my mom whenever he traveled to France. Finally, I grabbed my phone and a handkerchief from the table before leaving the room.

As I stepped outside, all eyes turned to me. Three guards followed closely, their imposing figures keeping people at a distance.

I looked around and exchanged glances with Alfred’s friend. Immediately, he walked up to me, smiling as usual.

“Good morning, my queen. You look ravishing. I pray for a successful burial, and don’t forget to stay strong.”

I smiled lightly, responding quickly, “Thank you for your kind words. Oh, your name, please?”

“I’m Arthur. You can call me Thur for short,” he said with a friendly grin.

“Nice, nice. Well, I have to be on my way,” I murmured confidently.

He nodded and winked, biting his lips in a sweet gesture.

I returned his wink and strode off with the bodyguards.

When I came out of the palace, I was met with a sea of people. There were more than ten canopies spread out in different directions, each filled with mourners.

My heart skipped a beat. Never had I faced such a crowd. I walked to the specially decorated area set up for me and sat down, placing my purse and phone on the table.

I requested an electric hand fan, and immediately my chief maid ran to bring it.

Soon, the priest arrived, and the funeral began. He stood before my father’s casket, dressed in ceremonial robes of white and gold, hands raised to the heavens.

“Oh, great Creator of the universe, we commend King Merlin’s soul into Your hands. A beacon of wisdom and strength, we pray that his soul may be accepted into heaven and that he rejoices at Your right hand.”

With a gentle sprinkle of holy water over the casket, he whispered, “Let his light shine over his people, and may his legacy live on forever.”

“Amen,” everyone responded in unison.

As the casket was slowly lowered into the ground, an eerie silence fell over the crowd. The rhythmic creak of the ropes echoed through the royal burial ground, and every eye watched in uninterrupted silence.

I stood at the edge of the grave, my hands clenched tightly at my sides, my face a mask of controlled grief.

When the casket touched the ground, the high priest stepped forward, sprinkling holy oil and chanting, “From the earth he rose, and to the earth he returns. His soul is now fully accepted in the embrace of eternity.”

The first handful of soil was cast upon the casket by the priest, followed by me. I knelt down briefly, letting the soil slip through my trembling fingers.

One by one, relatives, family friends, well-wishers, influential figures, presidents, merchants, and respected rulers approached the grave, casting their handfuls of soil into my father’s casket as a mark of reverence.

Their faces wore expressions of sadness, respect, and solemnity, honoring the man whose leadership had united kingdoms and inspired nations. The air was thick with the weight of their tributes, the whispers of prayers blending with the soft hymn sung by the royal choir.

Despite my grief, I stood firm, my regal posture a reflection of my father’s strength, silently willing myself to uphold his legacy and prove myself worthy of his throne.

Gradually, visitors came forward to offer their condolences. I received their words with quiet grace. Lavish gifts of gold, fine jewels, and exquisite linens surrounded me, while cash prizes in the form of various cheques overflowed, prompting my late father’s treasurer to intervene.

One by one, the visitors left, their footsteps fading as the grand hall grew quieter, the murmurs of sympathy replaced by stillness.

Eventually, I stood alone amidst the huge piles of gifts, the weight of my solitude hitting me hard. The reality of the new life I had to face was sinking in.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Alfred entered. His expression shifted to surprise as he took in the sight of the gifts.

“I’ll say this is indeed a toll of luxury. You’re blessed,” he murmured, impressed.

I was not in the mood for flattery. I needed condolences, not praise for material things.

“Is that what my father’s death seems to you? A toll of luxury?” I asked, trying to keep my anger in check.

He was shocked, and he couldn’t hide it. “Chill, Aaliyah. I never meant it that way. I was just exclaiming.”

“You never meant what? Do you think I don’t know your selfish intentions about ascending my father’s throne? I’m here to tell you that your dreams of becoming the king of Sussex will be shattered like leaves in autumn. Alfred, you’re a wicked soul. Just get out!” I screamed angrily.

I had been waiting for this moment all my life—the moment to make my mind known. Even though I didn’t know his true intentions, saying it out loud brought me some peace.

I could see the look of embarrassment on his face. His eyes were red with weariness, and he fought to stop tears from falling.

“I have no intentions of ascending the throne, Aaliyah. You’re my cousin, and I have so much respect for your late father, my uncle. I would never do such a thing, even if given the opportunity. I wish you the very best. You are brave, and Sussex deserves a leader like you,” he said defensively.

I felt guilty for accusing him of something he didn’t do, but I wasn’t about to admit my mistake.

I watched him open the door and leave the room. As soon as he was gone, I collapsed to the floor and burst into uncontrollable tears.

As much as I wanted to rule over Sussex, I knew it wouldn’t be easy. The obstacles ahead were daunting, especially with the people of Sussex accepting me as their leader.