Guarding His Queen

Chapter 2

The day of my coronation was sweltering. My father had always promised me that he would hand the title down to be in early spring or mid fall because traveling through the streets in a vintage carriage with layers upon layers of fabric settled on sticky skin was enough to make anyone go mad. He called it the most opulent torture. But, despite my discomfort, I perched on the edge of my seat and waved to the crowds that lined the streets. This was for them. I was here for my people during a dark time. And if that meant I had to be coated in sweat then so be it.

But all the sweet smiles fell away when I reached the church. As excited as people were this was a serious occasion and I needed to act as such. So, I didn't crack a smile when Cecilia adjust my dress – a blood red gown with a cinched waist and long trail on the back. And I didn't cry when she wished me good luck and squeezed my hand. All I did was smooth my blond hair, making sure it hadn't sprung out of it's updo, and continued waiting.

After what felt like hours in the hot sun I was waved in and the ceremony began. I walk down the aisle in between the pews, walking to the same beat that my mother and father walked to, together. But I was alone. No husband, no father, no mother. Just an overly excited sister in the pews who shot me a thumbs up. I ignored her, ticking my chin up as I did my best to restrain the smile she had triggered without looking upset. If I slipped up now I would never be forgiven.

I reached the Archbishop and seat myself on the throne, looking out at the hordes of people packed tightly into the pews. He does something that seems to be out of a magic book, like he's casting a spell on me as he anoints me with oil and speaks in Latin. once again, I had to avoid looking at my sister because I knew she would be in a giggling fit already. So many people were already so skeptical of my assumption of the throne because I was so young, I couldn't risk anything else going wrong.

I gazed out at the other nobility, the lesser royals, and the esteemed guests as I recited my oath. I had been practicing it for weeks, knowing that one wrong word, one pause to long would cause an uproar. It comes out mechanically but perfectly. I wished I could've conquered my anxiety to muster more emotion into the words. These are my people and I take the vow of keeping them safe, well, protected very seriously. I wanted them to hear and feel how much they all meant to me.

As the ceremony continued a ring is bestowed upon my right hand. The band is thick and the multiple stones glitter in the light from the stain glass windows. A golden scepter is placed in my grasp and I steel myself for what is coming next.

Last night, my mind had been flooded with unrelenting ideas about running away. I was so young, not even twenty-three yet, and I was to take on such a huge burden. I was to be in the spotlight my whole life. Every misstep, every mumble, every piece of food stuck in my teeth would be broadcasted to the whole world. The day after my eighteenth birthday tabloids had been filled with images of me sharing champagne with my parents and I was called a drunkard for months. They said I would never get married.

The Archbishop neared me with the crown in his hands. I could only stare at it, basking in its velvet, jeweled glory. I had seen the photo of my father wearing it. He had been young then, only twenty-seven, but he wore it had been molded just for him. I watched the masterpiece near, repressing the urge to squirm in my seat. I just kept thinking about how much it would weigh and how heavy the burden that came with it would be. All these people, they would rely on me and my judgement to guide them through job loss, poverty, natural disasters. 

Reverently, the crown was placed upon my blonde updo.

And I waited for the whirlwind of emotions that will tell me I was queen now.

They never came.

I had successfully progressed for princess to queen in terms of the law. Yet, I still felt the same way I did before.

No one else seemed to notice. They were all just watching me with big eyes and enthusiastic expressions.

As regally as I could muster, I rose from the throne. I must've done it correctly because, as I strode back down the aisle, all heads bowed to me. Even Cecilia. They were all so trusting, so willing that it sends a chill through my bones and a weight through my shoulders and spine. This is the life I was raised for, to serve my people who would follow me no matter what anarchy I cause.

And, if some of the tabloids are to be believed, in my youthful state I am sure to cause much distress.

Outside of the cathedral there are hundreds of flashes and snaps as a crowd of reporters flocked to my side. At first, it such a start that I jerk in surprise. The weight of the crown shifts and I force myself to be still. My God if I dropped the crown now it would be the end of my reign. And once I'm sure the crown is still mostly centered, I smile. I smooth my gown out, I whisper thank-yous to those who congratulate me, I wave to children, and grin at mothers holding babies.

And after what felt like a century of sweating and speaking and smiling, my carriage returned. And with it, a pair of grey eyes that me my heart melted in relief.

I didn't think twice about apologizing and excusing myself so I can greet my fiancé.

"Hello, my love," Edmund murmured. He swept down in a graceful bow and when I offer him my hand he places a gentle kiss just below my newly acquired ring. "I've come to take you back to the palace."

It takes everything in me not to beg him to scoop me up and carry me away right now. Instead, I turn only the corners of my mouth up in a refined smile and nod in agreement.

He opened the carriage door for me, then took my hand and assisted me up the two stairs. Once I am seated on the red. velvet cushions, he bows again.

"Aren't you coming with me?" I asked when he shut the door.

"I have to handle the media circus my marvelous fiancée keeps stirring up," he murmured with a cheeky wink.

Though I was disappointed he decided against accompanying me there is no denying the relief. Edmund hadn't been my first choice of husband. He was kind enough, thoughtful enough, and loved the people enough, he just didn't light a fire within me. When I had told my father that he scoffed and told me love was for fairy tales, not running a country. And now that we were engaged I was beginning to see what a gem Edmund really was. This world that would've scared millions of decent men away was a world of burden and worry and early wrinkles that he welcomed with open arms.

But, I was alone now. And Edmund was not my husband yet. So I would face my duties head on and alone for the time being. The horses set off at a steady trot, pulling the carriage along behind them and I did what I had always been taught to do. I smiled and waved. My mother frequently told me that we were the face of the people. In a world of bad we were control and stability and most importantly, a smile. the world needed someone to lean on, a kind pair of eyes to look upon when everything was falling apart.

So I beamed from the back of my carriage, watching the same streets move in the opposite direction now with a crown resting upon my head. It seemed that there were thousands more people now, more than I could ever count. 

I was so focused on fulfilling my duty I didn't stop smiling when I heard the ornate metal of my carriage puncture, a hollow tinny sound. I didn't stop smiling when the horses tugging the carriage suddenly stopped, jostling me before letting out a shrill scream of panic. I heard the handlers and driver try and calm them with no results.

But when the sound came a second time and I saw people, my people, race out of the streets, I knew.

Gunshots.

Bullets had hit my carriage.

My first thought was my crown. I carefully plucked it off my head and placed it gingerly on the upholstered seat. Then, I flung myself down onto the floor of the carriage, my arms wrapped around my head and shallow breaths striking my lungs and the horses reared and kicked, desperate to flee, but trying to trust their handlers.

Two more shots.

I didn't dare move. I didn't dare check to see if I was injured. I didn't peer out the window to search for my guards. I scarcely even thought.

I just laid on my stomach in my blood red dress until my guards arrived.