Her Majesty // Mikaelson

40 Funeral

Image not mine: it does symbolize something and that is why I picked it. Because in this chapter Francis and Merida stand together through this ordeal and it's supposed to resemble them as children, alone but still together and that's how they still come out in the end. (Sorry the chapter is short))

The normal three days between death and grieving that most humans take to prepare funerals is not a luxury that we had. It is said that once you bury a body, the grieving process begins. I'm here to tell you whoever said that was a moron. Grief is not something with several stages.

It is something that is continuous though out several years. After a while, it just becomes easier to ignore and that's what humans consider moving on. But when you're a vampire you never move on because we are forever trapped in time. Frozen and never moving on. Our grieving process is one that begins with our own death and doesn't ever end because time is frozen.

And emotions are heightened and even when you want to grieve sometimes your own mind won't allow it. Because you'll be so overwhelmed with sadness, and despair, and loneliness, that it all just blends together into a deep dark sort of depression. That even if you want to cry, you don't have the energy to do so because that person who died would be brought up in that moment.

You'll remember how they would help you up if you fell down and scraped your knees. How they watched you grow from a servant to a Queen. To someone who was mistreated and degraded by her own father then turned out to be better than either her parents ever were. And they were there for the whole thing because they were you brother.

The older brother that drives you nuts sometimes. Being better at everything that you take pride in. Sure, a brother that you hated and loathed. Envied, most of all. But those were just the feelings that arose in days where you fought with him. Otherwise, an older brother was someone you could always go to for protection. Perhaps good advice.

Who's on your side when it felt like no one else was. And all the good things snuff out the bad, at least until you loose him because then even the good are bad to you. Because any reminder at all whatsoever of that person, whether it be happy or sad, is bad.

It brings up all the scraped knees and all the laughter. All the jokes and happy memories as long as all the sad and angry memories. But it didn't matter because they were gone.

So yeah, even when my intestines were being held in with a heavy gauze and the pain was being subsided with a spell from Freya, I did insist on being there when my older brother was put into the ground.

Despite all my beliefs about funerals, it actually did take three days to put him into the ground. Not because I wanted to wait or it took that long to arrange it. But because it took that long to send him across seas. And as I stirred up the red powdery clay dirt of Scotland under my black shoes, I didn't feel the grieving process begin. All I felt was anger.

Anger because his killer was dead but he was still dead too. I didn't know what I thought. I guess Always and Forever was something I expected in a family of vampires but in a matter of a couple months I managed to loose two of my siblings. I never thought I'd actually see the day where they both died.

"Why didn't you let Kol come?" Francis asks, in the same dead voice he's used the last couple days. I shake my head, mustering up the energy to reply to my brother as we stood there. Standing over the grave of our deceased family member just outside the ruins of an old, abandoned castle. Of course, it was part of the UK now. It wasn't called Scotland anymore but nonetheless it was still a Scottish Castle and it was once Scotland.

"Why didn't you let Ashley come?" I reply, answering a question with another question coming naturally to me that I didn't have to think up an answer.

"She had no right to." Francis answers me.

"Neither did Kol." I agree. The frost covered ground crunches underfoot of small creatures native to the region. The crisp air bringing the promise of winter. The castle ruins were just a few feet away. I depart from the burial site to walk forward, looking around the stone and dirt where a market once was prosperous. Where people once lived and built lives for themselves. Then I make my way through the town, where only small bricks remained of buildings. I made my way to the large stone arch at the opening of the courtyard. The front courtyard, at least. Where there use to be gates that were manned by knights who stood by in case the warning bells were rung.

The stone beneath my feet was so worn from so many years. There was dirt and footsteps everywhere from tourists. But the main structure of the castle was still there. Though the linens and everything else has been stripped. Leaving it bare.

I walked through the courtyard, pausing to glance at the dry cement fountain, where I use to run through in such hurry. The castle didn't have flimsy wooden doors anymore. In fact, they didn't have doors at all. So I go in, flitting down a hall lightly on the balls of my feet, the familiar surroundings felt comforting and if I closed my eyes I could pretend for a moment that I was just on my way to the stables.

I walk down the empty corridor. My light footsteps echoing in the palace. I find myself up a flight of stairs, and at a room. Where nothing remained but dirt. I look around the stone walls. Where I spent most of my free time as a kid. I close my eyes, remembering Mordred's excited expression when I came back with something from the kitchen, sharing it with him next to an open window. Looking out over the town and reminiscing about far away lands and magical beings like unicorns and dragons, because at that time it was very real to us.

Mordred. The little boy who grew up, still in servitude to the king's bastard. He became quite known after I did. I was with Mikael before I knew what happened to him. Or how he died. It always remained a mystery to me. I guess now it didn't matter. He probably caught a disease or was killed by a knight or something when I went missing from Europe. A polite way of saying I led Mikael astray.

Either way, what's done is done.

I leave the room without another thought, going to the furthest hall of the castle, and through the old archways, looking at where the armory used to be. Where the stables was nothing but piles of rocks. Where the pigpen use to be held together with twine and sticks. Where goats and cows grazed and beyond that the garden where countless servants harvested the fruit and vegetables. Keeping the kingdom fed and the knights full.

Where I'd find Michael attending to the horses. A small mile touches my lips. The black haired, hazel eyed lad had riddles to tell and smiles to share. The boy who's smile was contagious. If I had any more tears to shed or more emotions to feel, I would. But none would come.

"Sister." Francis announces his arrival and I turn to him. "Our flight leaves soon. Freya needs to check you stomach before we leave." Freya had come with us, only for the sake of my stomach. The sword barely missed my spine when it went through, and she's been slowly trying to repair the damage with magic, but even Freya was not a witch doctor.

"Best get going then." I agree. "If we keep her waiting I fear what might befall us." I add without humor. There was not anything neither of us could think of that's worse than what has already came about. But no words were spoken as we walked away from our brother's grave and our family home.

There was nothing left to say, after all.

Length: 1370 words
So this is the last official chapter of this fanfiction, but I do plan on writing a sequel. I may add a note at the end announcing the posting of the next story. Until then, Keep the Heid!!