THE UNSPOKEN THRONE: A Warrior’s Womb Bearing the Fragile King’s Heir

“Good evening, The Grace.” Greeted a woman wearing a Mantilla who had just come out of the chapel. The woman wearing a thick fur coat, known as Mrs. Elowen, gave a polite bow to the young man she called ‘The Grace’. The night was indeed very cold, they were both wearing thick clothes, steam coming out of their mouths while they were talking. Lucian with his bright long wavy red hair falling from under a cowl of white silk, like a jagged wound against the snow. The fabric was so sheer it seemed to glow with the ethereal light of the church, clinging to his porcelain skin. His jawline was hardened and sharp. His eyes were a burning, bloodshot crimson and his lips were faintly red. His face was a masterpiece. Mrs Elowen had seen Lucian loads of times, but she was still amazed by how beautiful he was. Lucian was one of those church priests she went to, and actually the Crown Prince of Veridian. His fingers were long, sleek. He put his hands together in front of his chest and said in a deep voice, “Bless you always, Mrs. Elowen. I see you praying today, just like you did a few nights ago.” His voice was soft but also deep. Every movement he made looked so elegant and in order, like a proper nobleman. Elowen hugged herself, trying to stay warm. “Yes, my sweet girl's health is getting worse. I'm keeping her in my thoughts and hoping for the best.” Mrs Elowen's face looked a bit grey when she said that. Lucian gasped when he heard that. He knew exactly who Elowen's daughter was. The child was still so young, just three years old. Since their daughter was born, Mrs. Elowen and her husband have always been involved in charity events, like the free health checkups the church holds every month. That's how Lucian remembered the young lady. She always seemed cheery, even though each time she came by, her size seemed to get smaller because she was losing weight. “I hope God hears your prayers, Mrs. Elowen. Whatever happens, it's all part of His plan. God knows what's best for you.” Lucian said, bowing his head even lower as he prayed for the health of Mrs. Elowen's daughter in his heart. Mrs. Elowen smiled faintly, “I hope the king is also blessed with recovery.” Lucian took a deep breath, raised his head, and looked into Mrs. Elowen's eyes. Lucian knew Mrs. Elowen didn't mean any harm, but he wasn't too keen on hearing it. Lucian smiled and said goodbye to Mrs. Elowen. He strolled back down the path in front of the chapel, planning to head back to the palace that night. His dad, the king, got the news from Thomas that things weren't looking good for his dad's health. Worried that something had happened, Thomas went straight to Lucian, suggesting he should head back to the palace tonight. Lucian let out a sigh. Winter wasn't supposed to last long in this country, the Land of Arboris, whose capital city has the same name where the Veridian Empire originated. But for the past ten years, winter has been cruel around here. The sun only comes out a few times, and it's not even spring or summer yet. Lucian walked slowly, his boots crunching through the snow, leaving footprints with each step. The city was really quiet tonight. There weren't many people out and about, probably because of the heavy snowfall just hours earlier. Lamplight flickered in some corners in the wind. He looked over his shoulder towards the distant sound of snow crunching underfoot, and the hurried, anxious footsteps that were easy to spot. The wind was blowing again, hitting Lucian on the face, covered by his mantilla. The cold weather brought some terrible news he wasn't expecting. “THE GRACE!!!” A person in a royal uniform ran up to Lucian. He was a royal Valet who had been by Lucian's side since he was a child. Lucian stopped and looked at the man, letting him take a deep breath before delivering the news. “THE MAJESTY!!!” Before he could even finish his sentence, there was a sound from the castle. The sound, which he hadn't heard since his mom passed away, rang out loudly, announcing the news to everyone. “With great sadness, the palace announces the passing of the king.” The voices from the palace were loud, expressing their grief. *************************************** didn't say a word as he looked at the king's body on the bed, totally still. The old man's face was pale, his cheeks wrinkly, and his long, silvery-white hair looked shaggy. The moustache that Lucian remembered as neatly groomed and curled upwards, framing his wrinkly face, was now gone. All that was left was a moustache and a thick beard that covered almost half of the old man's face. He looked a bit rumpled towards the end of his life. The air in this chamber doesn't smell of flowers, it's more like the scent of old parchment, cold stone and the slight metallic tang of old plate armour. Deep, indigo tapestries hang on the walls, like heavy shadows, with gold threads and ancient symbols sewn into them. A grand, gold-wrought chandelier hangs from the dark rafters, its candles burning with a steady, unwavering flame that doesn't flicker. He felt like he was familiar with every corner of the room, but at the same time it felt weirdly foreign to him. Everyone in the palace was busy getting ready for the funeral, and he was still trying to figure out what had happened. The King had been bedridden for a while. He never thought his father would finally pass away from the disease. He was starting to feel a weird sense of unease, which was different from the way he'd felt when his mother passed away. The bell that meant the king was dead, rang again. He was decked out in Veridian's Ceremonial attire. He wore the long white robe with golden embroidery, which represents the Veridian kingdom, again after 10 years. He had worn it when his mother passed away when he was still a child, and now he's wearing it to accompany his dad on his final journey. “The Grace..” Lucian turned and saw Thomas, the valet who had taken care of him since he was a kid, bowing deeply to him. He looked tired and disheveled. “Raise your head, Thomas.” Lucian said, his deep, heavy voice softening but remaining cold. He walked over to the wooden chair near the king's bed, dragged it over to the end of the bed, and sat down. The royal funeral ceremony at Arboris took so long to prepare that the bodies usually stayed in their bedrooms for up to five hours. Snow had been falling since last night, and it was still coming down as morning came around. The clouds were dark and the air was cold, and people were praying at home for their king, who had passed away. Lucian wasn't too keen on the vibe there. “He looks peaceful.” Lucian started talking when the servants left the room, leaving him and Thomas alone. He leaned back in his chair and stared at his father's face, which was covered with a white cloth now. “He was so happy because he'd been waiting a long time, and now he finally got what he wanted. The day of his death.” Thomas couldn't help but look at the king's cold body with teary eyes, and he glanced at the Crown Prince. Thomas couldn't guess what the Crown Prince was feeling. The king's crown, a symbol of greatness, sat on the edge of the bed, shining beautifully because it was made of pure gold. The Crown Prince who was going to be king was going to wear it during the ceremony. Lucian. “Even when he was about to take his final breath, he still managed to look at Mom.” Lucian mumbled again, and Thomas turned to him. The Crown Prince stared at the big, beautiful portrait of his mother on his father's bedchamber wall. It had been painted a long time ago, long before his mother died. A knock on the door interrupted Lucian's monologue. Malakor, the palace's high alchemist, bowed at the door. Malakor's silhouette is as sharp and straight-edged as a sword, wearing high-collared robes of emerald silk and midnight wool that seem to absorb the light around him. He always has that faint, metallic smell of alchemical reagents and old blood around him. He's got a pale, gaunt look about him, like he's always thinking about something, and he's got high cheekbones that seem like they could break through his skin, which looks all pale and paper-like. His eyes are the colour of a stagnant pool, a cold, calculating green. His hands are long, skeletal, and always stained from his work. The man took a gold pocket watch from the cloak he was wearing. “It would be to consider the possibility of a coronation, Your Highness.” Malakor said as he put his pocket watch back and looked away at the Mother Tree from the window, which was starting to shed leaves even though it was winter. “The funeral will be held first, followed by the coronation. I apologize, but I don't think we have much time to mourn now. The tree appears to be quite delicate.” Lucian didn't move from his spot, though. He was still staring at his father's body. That big, strong body was gone, all that was left was a dry, skeletal form. Lucian could remember how, before his mom passed away, that big body used to give him a hug and be there for him until everything just... disappeared. There were no more warm embraces, no more best places to lean on. “I just need a minute...” “I apologize, Your Highness, but time is of the essence. We should proceed with haste.” Malakor cut him off, “It appears that The Mother Tree and the people are waiting.” There was no time for mourning in the palace for Lucian. In Veridian culture, funerals and coronation ceremonies for the King's heir were held on the same day. Lucian looked at ‘The Mother Tree.’ The tree that started it all for Arboris and powered the Veridian kingdom for ages.