Heavy is the Crown

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Kiawah was tense. The news of the emperor's failing health was tightly guarded, but Kia knew. And Nolia and Vero knew. Kia found himself staying closer to Vero than usual, sitting closer than he usually did, just... trying to soak up the last times they could be together so casually. But they both knew what was coming. When messengers started coming through the city, telling people the emperor would soon be making an announcement, Kia knew what was happening. He darted a troubled look at Vero as two of the emperor's most trusted advisers walked toward where Kia was seated with a group of warriors and requested his presence in the mansion. Everyone around him seemed utterly confused, but Kia just nodded and left his friends without a word.

This was it. It was happening. Kia's heart was racing in his chest as servants handed him ceremonial clothes to dress in, an elaborate costume used for crowning ceremonies. He couldn't remember the last time he'd worn anything so fine, and it felt wrong on his skin. I've been trained for this. I've been trained for this. I've been trained for this. He kept repeating the words in his mind, though they didn't calm his nerves much. Before he knew it, he was standing just inside the balcony where the emperor would announce his successor. The emperor came in the room, so weak he needed assistance, and Kia met his gaze, only nodding once before he was helped out to the balcony wearing the crown that would soon be on Kia's head.

Kia listened to the emperor's weak voice as he spoke to his people, knowing the people closest to the balcony would hear, but the rest would hear second hand, as he explained his failing health, and revealed the secret that had been kept from them. The son thought dead so long ago was alive, and was a warrior, and would be their new Emperor. Kia walked out on cue, and stood quietly while he was announced, and the crown placed on his head. He wouldn't wear it again, except for ceremonial purposes. He waited until it was his time to speak, heart hammering in his chest. People seemed mixture of confused and exited, but by the time Kia finished his speech, they are all cheering the new emperor.

He felt winded by the time he came back inside, but he kept his expression as calm as he could as he handed the crown back to one of the servants--he had servants now, how utterly bizarre!--to return it to where it was kept most of the time. He wasn't sure where they had taken the former emperor, but that was not what was on Kia's mind. He knew, once he took the crown, there were going to be a few things he needed to address immediately. His sister one of the first. He asked where she could be found, and was told Malia had been kept in one of the sitting rooms under a guard's watch from the moment Kia had been summoned. They feared she would cause a scene or disrupt the ceremony, and the thought of it made Kia's chest ache as he walked to where he would find her.

Entering the room, he found himself wishing he'd changed back into his regular clothes as he looked over at the guard standing at the door. "Leave us," he said quietly, but when the man hesitated, Kia straightened and glared. "Was my order not clear?" he said with more force. The other man blinked, then lowered his head in a bow before leaving. This didn't feel like who he was, but he'd been told he would have to establish his authority quickly and without question. Which was why he needed the man gone, so that when he looked back at Malia, he could allow softness to return to his gaze, unwitnessed by any he would command.

He didn't move from the doorway as he spoke. "I can only imagine how you must feel," he said. She was so young. "I wish we could have met long ago under different circumstances."

Tag: Malia

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The cheering of the crowds was audible from the room where Malia had been stashed like some shameful child. To be fair, it was probably a good idea. She had already thought of fifty ways she could have sabotaged the coronation. But she wasn’t getting past that guard. Father hadn’t seen fit for her to have any weapons training, unlike his precious prodigal son.

The mere thought of him turned Malia’s stomach. She wasn’t sure what sickened her more – that this usurper was taking what was rightfully hers, that her father had lied to her for all these years, or that the people outside seemed not only willing but excited to accept their emperor. It was a betrayal from all sides. She wanted to scream, throw a vase, something, anything. But there was a guard at the door and appearances were everything. It was a lesson her father had hammered into her. The same father who apparently had been raising another heir this entire time, knowing full well Malia would never see the throne he had pushed her so hard to be ready for. She had been nothing more than a smokescreen. A spare to keep the chair warm for his true heir. And that stung beyond words.

She was facing a window with her arms tightly crossed when someone entered. Probably her father come to tell her what a disappointment she was. But the voice that spoke was unfamiliar. Unused to authority. Had Malia been an older and more mature person, she might have understood then that her new brother could use her support, that there was probably much she could teach him despite her youth. But she wasn’t that person. She was only twelve years old and her entire world had just been smashed into oblivion. The only standard by which she could measure her worth no longer even applied. And yet for all of that, Malia was still royal. She had been raised in this palace. It was her home, and she was not giving it up easily. So when she turned, it was with head held high and eyes cold as steel despite the tears they held.

The young man in front of her wasn’t much to look at. Average appearance. A little short even. He didn’t have the same authoritative air as Father, the one that made fierce warriors bow when he entered the room. But the clothing he wore caused Malia’s jaw to tighten. He had come down here in full ceremony. It wasn’t enough for him to take everything from her; now he had to rub her face in it. Or at least that was how it felt. And just like that, any chance he might have had of getting through to the lost little girl buried deep inside Malia evaporated like breath on a sword. He had no idea how she felt. What it was like to be made redundant. To have everything he had ever wanted and worked for stripped away and handed to a perfect stranger. No joken idea.

“I wish I could say the same. But seeing as our father didn’t bother to tell me you existed until today...” The words were remarkably poised for a twelve-year-old despite the cold bitterness soaking them. If there was one thing Malia could do well, it was speak. A small tremor in her jaw betrayed the strong front however. He hadn’t told her. He hadn’t told her that this was all a sham, that she was only the placeholder. He had let her believe she could actually hold the throne. Not just that, but he had hammered and shaped her toward that goal for twelve years when he had known all along she would never wear the crown. And that hurt.

“But I suppose congratulations are in order. Your highness.” She didn’t curtsy. Not to him. If anything, she stood even straighter. And the tone of her words was expertly shaped to cut like a knife. Damp eyes or no, Malia refused to give him any sign that she was weak, that she was willing to concede his victory here. Mostly because she was both twelve and royal, and twelve-year-old princesses did not take defeat well. She was not some ragdoll he could simply cast aside. She was every bit as royal as he was. Arguably even more so. She was the current heir presumptive, the one who had grown up here training to be empress while he pranced around farmland played soldier, and it would do him well to remember that.

@kiawah
(This went a little longer than expected.)

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Kia had never spoken to Malia before, but she spoke well for such a young girl. Though Kia supposed he might've spoken as she did at that age if he had grown up in the mansion like royalty. She pointed out that she couldn't say she'd wished to meet him under better circumstances, since she hadn't known he existed before. He could see her trying hard to be strong, even to hurt him with her words, but he did not miss the tremble of her jaw or the dampness in her eyes. He blinked and lowered his gaze when she called him 'your highness'. "You do not need to call me that. You may call me Kiawah. And should such a time come when you feel comfortable, you may call me Kia when we are alone," he said.

He took a few steps deeper into the room, not getting near her, but closer. He only lifted his gaze when he stopped moving, his hands clasping behind his back. His submissive body language was deliberate, whether she recognized it or not. Meant to attempt to put her at ease, but deliberate as it was, it did not feel forced. He did wish to know her, and he'd thought long about this day, feeling sympathy for her in it long before it ever came. "You will have to trust that had the decision been in my hands, this would not have been a surprise to you." He supposed he understood the fear of his father and their advisers that a child would slip and reveal the truth, but Kia had been expected to hold a secret of his own since he was very young, so she might as easily have been capable.

Tag: Malia