The Burden of the Crown

A Fateful Ceremony

"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." – Act III, Scene I of King Henry IV (William Shakespeare)

May 2040

The first rays of sunlight bathed the rooftops of Polis as a little girl with brown braids stormed into her parents' bedroom. 

"Numon! Nontu!" she shrieked excitedly and jumped onto the bed, jostling her sleepy parents. "Today is the day. Come on, get up!"

"Good morning, yongon," murmured her mother, taking Lexa in her arms. 

Lexa squirmed loose. "Get up! You guys promised. You said we'd go to the ceremony." 

Lexa's father grumbled tiredly to himself and then slowly rose from the shared bed. "Well, go get dressed, Leksa."

Lexa stormed out and disappeared into her room. 

"Isaiah." She held his arm when he didn't respond. "Do you really think this is a good idea? There will be so many people there. What if she gets hurt?" Her eyes anxiously searched his, trying to make out what he was thinking.

"Nothing will happen, Farrah. Leksa deserves to be part of our traditions, to know our people. We can't always just hide her because of her blood," he spoke reassuringly, but not without doubt in his eyes. "And if something does happen, I will protect her with my life."

Lexa, meanwhile, came back from her room fully dressed. "I'm ready!" beamed the 10-year-old.

"Put your gloves on, Lexa. In case you hurt yourself," her mother called out to her as she got dressed.

"Sha, nomon," muttered Lexa, rolling her eyes.

A little later, the three of them came upon a completely crowded street. People from all eleven clans were milling around in front of the entrance to the large arena. Flags were waved and market criers advertised their food.

"Stay close to me, Lexa," said Farrah loudly, trying to drown out the noise of the street. 

Lexa's eyes darted over all the interesting things to see. Incessantly, her thoughts circled around the presentation of the Natblida. Lexa would like to be a warrior, too. True, her parents had taught her since she was two years old how to defend herself if one of the Fleimkepa ever tried to kidnap her. But Lexa still probably couldn't win a fight. She really wanted to see the other Natblida. They were just like her, but no one could ever know that.

Lexa turned to her parents and stopped, so that they were now standing like a rock in the middle of a wild herd at full gallop. "Hod op," she spoke with a serious look. "Mochof. Thank you for always protecting me."

Isaiah lovingly put a hand to Lexa's cheek. "Yu laik osir sonraun."

Lexa gave her parents a quick smile and then pulled them along. Slowly, the family joined the queue at the entrance, where all visitors were checked for weapons. 

Ahead of them, a young Azgeda warrior was turned away for refusing to surrender his sword. Farrah and Isaiah exchanged a cursory glance. Azgeda was basically unwelcome in Polis, which was currently ruled by a Trikru commander. The enmity between Trikru and Azgeda had existed since Praimfaya and would probably never end. 

The people slid up and finally entered the grandstand of the great fighting arena. Seats were arranged in five raised rows around the arena and every one of these seats was now occupied. Right next to the arena there were also one hundred standing places, which offered a particularly good view into the action. 

The people of the earth were more than excited, because this event only happened every ten years or so. So now, years before the conclave, the Natblida were presented to the people in a battle. The Natblida entered the arena one by one, accompanied by resounding applause. Each one's name, clan, age, fighting skills and goals as a possible heda were presented. This gave the people the opportunity to get to know and love their soon to be leader.