Lily of the valley

20

Time raced forwards again, Katherine was disturbed by what she had just seen. The mountain remembered Hans as a pious ruler, as being an innocent bystander in the destruction of peace but it was clear to her now that history is edited by its writers. Here she witnessed truth and it was harrowing. Mora discovered nothing on her trip, a handful of desert roses had seen the girl pass through but none could be sure where she had ended up. The time witch pushed them forward twenty years, to Hans' coronation, King Stephan had died peacefully in his sleep at the grand age of 75.

The council chambers were filled with spectators, most of them were nobles from the mountainside but some hailed from the other kingdoms. All were eager to see what had become of the estranged mountain prince, to see if age and the monastery had reformed his behaviour. First entered the Kings and Queens of the other eleven kingdoms, Queen Eithene still led the council, though time had begun to show on her face and in her gait, she had just turned 47. The dryad and the faye were the same, their lifespans were centuries longer than all the rest, Queen Mora had just had her 200th birthday, the faye king his 122nd.

Queen Isa had died a decade ago from a plague of the lungs, a common affliction in the southern kingdoms. She had spent her last days in barely lucid fits of prayer while spluttering bloody bile into her pillows. Now her eldest son Edward wore the crown, he was meek and well educated. He ruled with his head and not his heart, much unlike his impassioned and harsh mother. It was late autumn and the moorland weather had taken to wildness, there was a downpour outside and great collisions of thunder in the sky. The lofty throne room was frozen, the southern nobles stood adjusting their furs and shivering.

King Omar still lived and his heart still overflowed with fury and sadness, he had prayed often to the goddess of wisdom to bring change to the unruly prince. Today he would finally see if his prayers had been answered. His wife hung off his arm, she still wore black, her downcast eyes were covered with a veil of black lace. She too had come to see if the boy had changed, to see if she could find some relief in forgiveness.

King Gabriel of the moor remained, though he was withered by age, he could barely stand to welcome his guests. His son stood beside him, patiently awaiting his own turn to rule as he had done for his 40 years of life.

Once the guests were settled and the council members were seated upon their ring of thrones the orchestra began to play, the anthem of the mountain was powerful and filled with deep brass. Light flurries of violin accompanied the song of earth and snow. The doors were opened for prince Hans, who was beheld with a sense of fearful apprehension and awe. He had aged well, from lanky pre teen to handsome gentleman. Though he was missing two fingers on his left hand and one on his right, a sure retaliation from the monks. The sight of Hans caused the Queen of Maequil to weep bitterly into a black handkercheif, Omar held himself strong. Hans was smug, he sauntered towards Queen Eithene who held his crown in one hand and a ceremonial sword in the other, she was to speak the coronation rites. Prince Hans bowed lowly before the queen of peace, he had spent years training for this day. He placed his hand on his heart for the vows.

"Do you swear to place the needs of your subjects and of your kingdom before your own?"

"I swear it."

"Do you swear to follow and uphold the laws of this council?"

"I do."

"Do you swear of yourself, and of members of your household, to come when summoned by the council."

"I do."

"Do you swear to value peace above all else?"

"All of this I promise to do, may the gods guide me."

Eithene placed the golden crown upon his head, its weight was hefty, he would carry it all his life. Then the Queen drew the sword, blunted steel inlayed with golden sacred rites. The handle was solid gold and covered with diamonds and pearls, it was a spectacle to behold. Eithene touched Hans' shoulders with the blade. "May Eoldric, God of Earth and fire grant you strength. May fair Anne, Goddess of peace bless you with tranquility. May Elegie, Goddess of wisdom bless you with sapience."

"May fire, earth, peace and wisdom flow through me." Hans uttered.

"Arise Hans, King of the mountain. Long live the King." As Hans stood the crowd broke into cheering, rich music lifted into he rafters.

"Long live the King." They chanted for the man who held himself with fierce resolve, his face was still and unreadable. It was impossible to tell whether he had found absolution and change through Elegie, only time could reveal the truth.