Revenge of the Roses

Chapter 4 ~Alana~

It would've been my first proper royal party, if I actually went, that is.

I will not go to the coronation of 'my sister'. Why should I be celebrating after my own mum has died? 

Where was her funeral? Surely her funeral should come first. Or do they not care about her any more?

Either way, I won't go to the celebration.

There was a gentle knock on my door.

I didn't reply.

Another knock.

And another.

Finally, a slightly nervous voice said:

"Your sister formally requests you to witness her coronation, and to attend the celebration afterwards."

"DON'T call her my sister" I practically snarled. "And NO. I won't go. If she really wanted me there she would ask me herself."

I buried my head in my duvet again, and carried on with my crying session. I hadn't cried this much in my life, but I had a very good reason to.

After a while, there was another knock on the door.

Hadn't they got the message yet?

"Alana. Please come to my coronation. For our mother".

**********

I had no choice, did I? Her royal freaking highness went and asked me herself, but the main reason that persuaded me to go was because my mom asked me to in her letter. It was the last thing she ever asked me to do. Even when I decided to go, Sylina's last three words still haunted me.

For our mother.

Our mother.

I walked into the Great Hall in a burgundy jumpsuit, a white jacket and beige slip-ons. I wasn't in the mood for fancy dresses and heels.

The Great Hall was almost packed, with guests and representatives from all the other Kingdoms. They all wore their Kingdoms' symbol on a badge, but you could tell by the way they dressed and walked where they belonged; they all matched their Kingdoms' stereotypes.

A stuck up eagle over there. A sweet and innocent sun over here.

I walked round and greeted them with the most forged smile I had ever done. But 'a true royal never lets her real emotions show', as my mum would say.

I would give anything for my mum to tell me that again.

I was offered champagne many times by people who were clearly oblivious to fact that it's illegal to get a 17 year old drunk, but I can't remember the amount of times I was tempted to down a few glasses.

I spent the next 15 minutes shaking peoples hands. It's surprising how many could do with a little hand cream.

"Hello sir" I would say. "Good evening ma'am." "Thank you, isn't this such a great celebration"

I was just about to stick out my almost-blistering-from-so-many-hand-shakes hand when I realised who was about to shake it.

Morgan.

Crap. What's he doing here?

"What's wrong with my hand?" He asked, acting hurt as I immediately took back my offer for a hand-shake.

I wasn't in the mood for his jokes.

"Nothing" I muttered and hurriedly and moved on, heading towards some old person I hadn't yet greeted.

I was right about him being a Sword, though his arrogance was almost blinding. I never would've guessed he was important enough to be invited to a cornation.

Just who the hell was he?