King of Griffindale

Chapter 6 - A Queen's Proposal

The young boy took a deep breath, knowing that there was no way he could say “no” to his mother's dying wish.

“Yes, mother” he said to her. “I promise.”

“Thank you, my son,” she said to him with a smile. “If not for the blood on my lips, I would have kissed you.”

“You never stop saying weird things, do you, Mother?” asked Felix, and she laughed briefly, but it triggered a slight cough, one that almost made him regret saying that to her.

Then she rested her back completely on the mat, with her eyes on the ceiling. “Though I may have instructed you to endeavor to meet them, I have a very strong feeling that they would meet you instead,” she said to him.

“There hasn't been any attempt to visit us in over 15 years, Mother,” Felix said. “It's highly unlikely now.”

“Stop being so pessimistic,” she said to him.

“Says the old lady who wanted to kick the bucket not long ago,” he teased her with a slight chuckle.

“Who are you calling old? I'm still in my forties, you know?” she said to him with a slight frown.

“Then stop acting like one,” Felix said. “I want you to live, Mother. I don't want to lose you.”

“Neither do I, my son,” she replied. “But whatever will be will be, and there is nothing we can do about it.”

Felix closed his eyes, nodding frequently as tears poured out from each of his closed eyelids.

“Que Sera Sera,” Felix replied with a slight smile as he opened his eyes. “Right Mom?”

But when he opened his eyes, he saw his mother lying with her eyes open but no longer breathing. 

“No... no!” he reacted as he held his mother's hand tighter, calling on her repeatedly, but got no response. 

She was dead, just as she said she would be. 

He cried out so loudly that some of the villagers had to come in to find out what all the fuss was about. Upon seeing the woman dead, they also became stricken with grief, knowing how heavy a loss it would be to everyone who knew her [including themselves], especially her 21-year-old son, Felix. 

The woman who died was Lydia Atticus, the older sister to Thea Locksley, who was the mother of "the Bastard Prince," Cyrus Theodore, the only son of the Late King, Claudius Theodore.

From the moment Felix's mother passed away to the moments after she was cremated, the boy found it impossible to do as his mother had requested. Having in mind that his mother most likely would not have died if her sister had visited more often and done something about it, he couldn't bring himself to do as she asked. 

His mind went for the easy thing to do: to keep living as a peasant in the remote village far from the King's residence and keep living without their help and assistance, the same way he and his mother had thrived for the past several years without them. Perhaps in the future they would meet, and something would come of their encounter. But for now, he just didn't care enough to do anything other than keep living in mediocrity. 

Perhaps from there he would find a wife among the several young women of the village and start a family—one that would be oblivious to the affairs going on within the King's Palace, as it would not concern any of them, just as much as it wouldn't concern him. 

That was how he planned out his life without his mother in it, and he had no qualms with it whatsoever. 

But just like his mother believed, “Whatever will be, will be,” implying that no matter how one plans out his life, sometimes fate flips it over its head and gives you something else to deal with instead. And given the coming turn of events, the young man might come to understand that truth the hard way. 

-

Back in the present moment... 

It was the night of the king's cremation and burial, and the rites of cremation were over. The king's ashes had been placed in the royal tombs at the lower ends of the castle to rest with those of the other kings and rulers before him. 

Now it was over, and she would never see her husband again. She was in her study room, which was different from her bedroom, and was therefore open to visitors who had an urgent need. She usually visited the room whenever she wanted to keep her mind distracted with fairy tales from the best books she could get her hands on. 

She was an avid reader, and it was the best means through which she forgot her sorrows, apart from just staring out the window and enjoying the peace and serenity of mother nature. 

This time around, she did not come to her study room to read and get lost in fantasy, but instead, to think. 

She had involuntarily begun to ponder heavily on what Tarquin, her advisor, and her personal assistant had told her. If things go as he says, then from tomorrow, preparations would be made for her to become the next ruler of Griffindale. 

But she knew almost nothing about politics and felt like if not for Tarquin's advice and assistance, she would screw up everything and flop badly as a ruler. 

All she knew about politics was what she heard being discussed in the countless Senate meetings she attended for formality's sake back at the King's Court. That aside, she had no practical experience in politics, as she had never taken on any sort of political undertaking before, neither for herself nor for her late husband, the King. 

She intended to rule the kingdom long enough for her heir to rule over as king and not her late husband's bastard. But she wasn't sure how she would be able to do that. 

Yet, frankly, she had almost nothing to be worried about at the moment, but perhaps it was just a slight anxiety over great responsibility that was almost getting the better of her. But thankfully, at the right moment, a knock came from the door, prompting the Queen to get out of her head and get her act together as quickly as she could. 

The knocking pattern showed that it was not Tarquin who was behind the door, but someone else. 

“Who is there?” asked the Queen. 

“It is Sir Nickson and a few of the other elders; we came to see you,” a familiar voice said from behind the door. She knew he was who he said he was, but it was strange for him to come with others to see her at such an odd hour of the night. So she could not tell them to come in just yet. 

“What do you want to see me for?” she asked. “What happened to the guards? Why did they allow you here?”

“We've come to talk about your eligibility as Crowned Queen of the Kingdom. And also, to ask if you would be interested in taking on the mantle of leadership,” the voice replied. 

But she was still skeptical about this, as such an affair could have been handled formally at the King's Court the next day under normal circumstances. She did not understand why such a formal meeting had to take place at a time like this, so she hesitated to tell them to come in. 

She also wondered what the guards were up to at the moment because unexpected visitors were freely knocking on her door late at night. 

Several seconds passed until she heard the next voice. 

“I am with them,” came another familiar voice, one even more familiar than Sir Nickson's. “And it is in your best interest to talk to them now, your Majesty.”

Knowing that Tarquin was with them, she loosened up. “Alright, come in,” she said to them, knowing they weren't there for anything weird or dangerous. 

Then the door opened, and in came Tarquin first, followed by the three elders who accompanied him. 

They were elders she recognized from the several meetings she had attended in the King's Court: Sir Nickson, Sir Kendrick, and Sir Kingsley. 

The three of them were notable politicians, and based on her observations, they were probably the politicians with the most skeletons in their closets. 

Her suspicion of them was so great that if not for Tarquin's reassurance, she would have been uncomfortable having them in the same room as her. 

“Good evening, Queen Regina,” Sir Nickson said. “We are here to talk about the current political state of the Kingdom, and we have come at such an odd hour because we believe it is a matter which has to be addressed as soon as possible.”

She briefly looked at Tarquin, who nodded at her, before she looked back at the three elders before them. 

“I'm listening,” she said to them. 

“Before we go any further, we would like to know for sure: Do you intend to be the Crowned Queen of Griffindale in place of your husband?” asked Sir Nickson. 

“Yes, Sir Nickson,” she said to him without hesitation. “I do intend to rule as the Crowned Queen.”

“Good,” the elder said. “This would make the conversation a lot shorter. Long story short - we have a proposal for you.”