Moon Drunk: Origins

Queen Felicite, First of Her Name

She kneels and offers her gift to the Ancestors, a small stream of blood from her palm, then rises and proceeds to her coronation throne, an elaborate piece of carved dark oak with four gilded direwolves of solid gold seated at each of the feet. She takes slow, cautious steps, for fear of tripping over her long, fur-trimmed robe, but she keeps her head up, staring straight forward. She has not seen Julien, and a feeling of anxiety begins to grip her heart. Why would he not be here? What could be more important than the coronation ceremony of his queen? Then she remembers the tradition, that the king cannot be present; he must watch from a private room. Surely he is there now, watching over her with Fionn in his arms. But unlike their wedding, when he was able to calm her nerves and lend her his great courage, she is utterly alone in this event.

"I hear present unto you, Queen Felicite, the undoubted queen of the Three Kingdoms. Chosen by the Ancestors to rule at the side of King Julien."

"The Ancestors keep our Queen," the crowd says in unison.

"We offer the traditional scepter and the ring to our one almighty and true queen."

"Ancestors keep our Queen."

She takes the scepter and gazes into the yellow full moon orb in the center for a moment; the ring matches the scepter, and it is placed on her finger over her wedding band, symbolizing her commitment to the Three Kingdoms even before her commitment to their king. The High Priest places the crown atop her head and she closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, the people gathered in the abbey have all knelt, and she cannot resist the smile that creeps across her face. Her eyes drift to a hooded figure that has been standing discreetly near the entrance; now that the ceremony is over, the hooded figure nods, as if satisfied, and then the guards hurry him from the abbey, and she does not have time to give him a second thought, because now she is queen.

For better, for worse. Come what may...she is queen.

The crown weighs heavy upon her head. She has been preparing for this moment all her life. She has trained for it, been groomed for it from the very moment of her birth, every thought, every deed performed in preparation. But now the harsh reality washes over her and panic rises in her throat. The weight of the crown is truly the weight of the people of the Three Kingdoms; their hopes and dreams, their livelihoods, their very existences; the weight of the hopes and dreams of her father and Jolis, the plans they had made for unification of the Three Kingdoms; the weight of the fate of her son, Fionn, and all the children to come for Julien and Felicite; the fate of nations rests upon her very head. It is overwhelming, it is terrifying, and despite her knowledge that this is her destiny, what that truly meant was beyond her grasp until this very moment.

"Felicite, Felicite! Are you truly queen now, Felicite?" Dulce calls out, rushing to her sister.

"I am. But first, and always, I am your sister," Felicite says, hugging Dulce to her. "I shall always be your sister."

"Will you dine with us tonight?" Dulce asks eagerly.

"I should like that very much," Felicite smiles warmly.

"There is my queen," Julien interrupts as he approaches, handing Fionn to Dulce and drawing Felicite into his arms, kissing her deeply. She savors this moment, her moment of triumph. For she is the daughter of a king, the wife of a king, and she is the mother of the future king. 

"We shall have a great feast tonight to celebrate your sister's coronation," Julien says, "and then we shall dance and drink wine, and you shall stay up past your bedtime. Because you are sister to the queen, and because I am king, and I say it shall be so."

Felicite smiles at him appreciatively as Dulce rushes off to dress for the celebration.

"Lords and ladies of the court. Queen Felicite of Briony, Bourbon, and Bruges."

The crowd kneels as her brother-in-law, Prince Lucien, escorts her through the gathered masses, her chin high.

"You are pleased, yes?"

"Of course. I am Queen of Three Kingdoms now, am I not, Your Grace?"

"For now," Lucien hisses, his smile never faltering. "Enjoy it while it lasts, Princess Felicite."

Felicite returns his smile, staring ahead at Julien. "I shall enjoy every moment of my time as Queen, Prince Lucien, but do you know what I will enjoy most?"

"What is that?" Lucien asks, amused.

"Watching the executioner separate your head from your neck when I expose you for the traitor you are."

Felicite retires early from the coronation celebration. Something is nagging at her mind, a feeling, perhaps even a premonition. Julien bids her goodnight, although he eyes her curiously, raising an eyebrow as if to ask if all is well. She nods, offering him a smile to reassure him she is fine. She dismisses her exhaustion over the events of the day, although another concern is rising within her. 

She pauses outside the door to her private chamber. A familiar fragrance fills her nostrils and she squeezes her eyes shut, taking a deep breath before she opens the door and steps inside. 

"Hello, Sister. You looked lovely today."

"Thank you, Mariusz," she says softly.