Claiming His Reluctant Heart

15

'When He created you lying in bed
He knew what He was doing
He was drunk and He was high
and He created the mountains and the sea and fire at the same time.'

-Charles Bukowski
***

His father was finally dead.

He was officially the King now.
Nobody will be able to debate the fact.

Algar felt the weight of his father's hand in his, as he peered closely at his ashen face.

His wrinkled skin hung on high cheekbones; his eyes- those formidable grey eyes that had always intimidated him to an alarming extent, were closed to the world.

The royal physician, and a slew of maids and guards, stood surrounding him, but all he could hear was the enthralling cheer of an invisible crowd, as they celebrated their new king.

"Your Highness, we have to get the body ready for the funeral."

There was an infliction of sympathy in the physician's voice as he approached him. Algar gathered that the man probably considered him as the mourning son. He looked up at him with glazed eyes.

"Now?"

The older man seemed to hesitate, throwing an uneasy look at the limp hand he held. He answered with a simple nod of his head.

Algar took a quivering breath- overwhelmed with the knowledge of the unmitigated power he now held.

He then took another look at his father's hand. The ostentatious ruby, glinting on the gold band on his finger, beckoned to him. It had always fascinated him. The ring was the symbol of the royal family, passed down through generations.
And now, it was finally his turn to don it.

With a carefully-restrained excitement, he pulled the ring out.

Several shocked gasps were heard around the room. He could feel their reproving gazes on his back- doubtlessly outraged by his action.

They must have expected a forlorn son, inconsolable at his father's death.

To hell with them.

He was their King now. He did not care if they termed him a shame for a son. All that mattered now, was the weight of the ring as he slid it on his finger.

Straightening with a hardly-contained jubilation, Algar faced the others.

"Get the body ready. We'll have the funeral tomorrow itself. And the soon after that, my coronation."

Walder, standing near the far corner, cleared his throat to disrupt the stunned silence.

"Of course, Your Highness."
______________________________________

"The King is dead?"

Rayna's heart thudded in her chest, as she gaped at Zaryna's sombre face.

After hours of waiting for some news regarding the King's health, she had already expected something of this sort.
However, hearing it was even more jarring than she had thought.

"The Prin-King asked me to relay his regrets for not being able to visit you as often as before."

Rayna schooled the perfect look of pretend disappointment, hoping for it to fool the gullible woman before her.

She could not let her discover the relief she felt upon hearing the words. That boorish lout will not be tormenting her with his presence...what more could she ever ask for?