Sometimes dawn comes too soon. But with it it always brings hope for a new day. A brighter one. No matter how dark and devastating the previous night had been.
The tears had long dried up and she felt empty as she watched the first streaks of daybreak spread across the Eastern horizon.
She watched on as her maid came to help her dress. She hadn't even realised that she still wore the ball gown from the Victor's feast. She just sat there as everyone fussed around her.
Her cousin got up and left with promises to be back soon. But what were promises? Did they really mean anything?
Her insides felt hollow and her head throbbed in harmony with the beating of her heart. They were her only comfort. The only signs that reminded her that she hadn't joined her family.
Lord Edwin came and went. He informed her of the preparations though she could never recall what exactly he said. But one thing she did know.
It was to be at noon as per custom.
She watched the hours go by. She received no visitors though many courtiers came to offer condolences.
She couldn't bear to face them. Not yet.
Charlotte fingered the white lining of her dark heavy dress. She remembered what her father had told her of its symbolism.
The black represented loss. Everyone in the kingdom would wear dark clothes. From farmers to courtiers. But they would carry something white.
White was a symbol of hope. A symbol of solidarity with those that had lost the most. It was patience and goodness and a silent resignation to the fact that their time would come soon enough as well.
A custom almost a rite now after so long.
What would her father say if he saw her mourning him? He would laugh and tell her to get on with life. Death was a given. If it came early so be it. If it came late all the better. But he always said that he would want to walk to his grave. Not hobble like a grumpy old man.
A hero's death. That's what her father wanted. Was that what he got?
She looked up when she heard her name being called. Her eyes were misty with unshed tears and she had to blink them away to see clearly.
Hayden stood stoically by the door. He wore the dark uniform of the courtiers but the gold filigree was gone. Instead the inside of his coat was lined with white.
He held in his hand a single rose. Her eyes remain fixated on the flower for a long while.
She heaved a sign before speaking, "Is it time?"
Her voice sounded raspy but she willed it to remain strong. She rose from the sofa and faced Hayden. The large northerner nodded solemnly and held the rose out to her.
She felt her arm reaching for it and soon enough she ran her index finger over the smooth velvety petals.
Lord Edwin had thought of everything it seemed. The traditional flower for funerals were forget-me-nots. Her father hated them. The scent always made him sneeze.
So in his final ceremony they had been replaced by roses. The King of flowers. A fitting symbol of farewell to a great King.
Charlotte slowly followed Hayden outside to find that Lord Edwin was also there. Rochelle stood a little way off looking so small in her dark plain gown. Her hair was hidden under a white shawl and she seemed to be lost in thought.
The princess stopped out into the hallway. She wanted to thank them all. They were there for her when she believed she had no one. She couldn't find the words and choked to get even a simple thank you out.
Lord Edwin smiled kindly down at her. Then his eyes shifted to the door at the end of the hall.
Her father's bedroom.
Charlotte closed her eyes and turned her back to it. She didn't think she was strong enough to go there yet. Maybe a childish part of her still clung to a hope that if she knocked it would be her father's jovial voice that would bid her to enter.
She shook the thoughts off and took a few moments to compose herself. She nodded when she thought she was calm enough and they all formed a small envoy.
Rochelle walked besides her as they started down the stairs. Charlotte was surrounded by Lord Hayden and his father. They never spoke nor told her to hurry when she sometimes stopped unexpectedly. At times the memories became too strong and she couldn't help it.
But they all patiently stopped alongside her. They gave her space and time to grieve. The halls seemed to echo with their footsteps and the castle felt almost deserted.
She stopped when they reached the last bend in the staircase. Beyond it she could hear a low hum of chatter. The court would be gathered in the entry hall, waiting.
Waiting for her.
Charlotte took deep breaths to calm herself down. Hysteria started bubbling inside of her accompanied by a stinging pain in her heart. She gripped the bannister if only to have something to keep her grounded.
Through her panic she felt a small hand on her arm and glanced to see her cousin standing nearby. Even with the pain and grief written clearly across Rochelle's features she offered Char a smile.
And that small watery, broken smile was enough. Charlotte couldn't find it in her to return the gesture but she nodded her head in recognition.
They would get through this. Together.
She wiped her damp cheeks, steeled her nerves and straightened her spine. She was a princess of Frahadry. She was the daughter of King Maxim the first.
And she was ready to face her people.
Stepping out onto the landing of the set of stairs that would lead her down felt so final. It felt as if she was closing a chapter of her life, and beginning a new one.
She faced her father's court. Men and women sworn to help her family. Some seemed grief-stricken, some still looked in shock. But they all bowed as one when she started to descend.
The gesture gave her pause. Charlotte looked out at the sea of black and white and wondered what she was to do. The experience was humbling. Was this what her father had felt, when he was recognised for the first time as King? Did he, like her, not know what to do?
A memory floated to the forefront of her mind. Her father smiling as she rushed into the council chamber after another meeting had finished. She had weaved in and out of the courtiers that were leaving and jumped with joy when she had seen her father. The king had picked her up and spun her around. She had been so young, so innocent.
The little Charlotte had related the events of the day and in return the King told her of the proceedings of the meeting. She had found them awfully mundane and asked her father how he knew what the right decision was.
He had replied, "I don't, my dear. As you can probably tell, running a Kingdom isn't something you can prepare for. But you do what you feel is right. You do what you think is your duty. Never let anyone berate you for having an opinion, Charlotte. You have a voice and an authority. Use it for the good of the people of your realm. And that is all anyone can ever ask of you."
She had not paid attention to the advice much back then. But now it seemed invaluable.
Charlotte looked straight ahead and descended the stairs. She would do what she felt was right.
The sea of black parted before her and gave her a clear access to the great hall. How many birthdays had it seen celebrated in its walls? How many balls had been held under its glittering roof? Would it now host the dark drapery of a funeral?
It was fitting as it had seen the murder.
She pulled up short when she realised that there were already people in the hall. The first part of the rites was a private goodbye from the family. She had not been expecting so many other courtiers to be present.
They all turned to look at her and bowed in reverence. Five young women, one with a wrapped up newborn in her arms, righted themselves as the doors were shut.
That's when she noticed the coffin.
A large dark box trimmed with gold rested on a high platform at the end of the hall. Charlotte closed her eyes and swallowed hard as tears fell freely down her face.
Did she care any more? Did it even matter?
A baby's high pitched screams shook her out of her stupor. She slowly opened her eyes to see the woman trying to quiet her child while the rest continued to watch her reaction.
"These are the Asbury sisters."
"What?" Was all Charlotte could say.
The Asburys were a very old family that had always served the royal house of Frahadry. Their scion Lord Bertram was of a scholarly bend but her father had always said that without him they would spend most of the council meetings drinking the day away. She recalled that the lord was the second youngest child in a family of six. But since he was the only boy he inherited his father's titles when he had tragically died in an accident.
"What are they-" Charlotte cut herself off as her eyes alighted on the thinner less opulent coffin near her father's.
"Lord Betram is dead, your majesty. He died trying to defend you and your people last night."
Memories flooded her senses as she tried to grasp the full meaning of what she had just been told. Old books. He had always smelled of parchment and ink. When she was younger she could always count on him to help her with an assignment.
Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and she felt another part of her shattered and tarnished soul die. Was she to face all of this alone?
No, not alone.
She opened her eyes to look around. Grief became easier to bare when it was shared. These women, they had lost a brother. They knew what she was going through. Their mother had died giving brith to the youngest sister. Their father went next and it seemed Fate was keen on taking it all from them.
The baby's screams had quieted and Charlotte slowly made her way towards the Asbury sister that held him.
Where there was death, there was life.
She gave her finger to the little child and its fisted it chubby fingers around hers. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly as she looked up at the innocent soul's mother.
"What is you name?"
"Arianna, your majesty."
The woman tried to dip into a curtsey but Charlotte stopped her with a small hand on her elbow.
"This is your child?"
"Yes. His name is Eldred."
"Let me guess, Bertram named him?"
The young mother nodded enthusiastically and Charlotte noticed that the Asburys had gathered around them.
They all held similar looks of grief and sorrow but she noticed a spark of hope glinting in their eyes. If a family who had lost so much could dare to hope, why couldn't she?
She took a deep breath before looking directly into the eyes of Arianna Asbury, "Bertram was a good adviser."
Her voice cracked and it felt scratchy and raw but she swallowed once and continued, "Only the great Queens know how many times he has helped me. He was brave and true and my father always said that he was the reason they even got anything done in the council meetings."
"He could be a tad bit obsessive at times." One of the sisters spoke up.
"And a bit of a know-it-all." The youngest chirped from close by.
"But he was our brother. And we all loved him." The eldest sister, Grace, whom Charlotte had seen several times at court and who was heavily pregnant at the moment pulled her sisters into a hug. Charlotte found herself right in the middle of them.
But she didn't mind. It was as if in this circle their grief was gone. For a moment they could just remember their loved ones without the sting of knowing that they weren't around any more.
"He died a heroes death. You should be proud of your brother." Her words were whispered but she could see the gratitude in Grace's eyes as they pulled apart.
"As should you. He lived to serve the royal family. He wrote letters home and often most of them would be filled with praises of your father."
They smiled at each other and Charlotte found herself returning a small smile.
"The king was a great man, even if we knew him little. For what our regard is worth, we would be honoured to serve you as our brother served your father." Arianna said, little Eldred now gurgling happily in his mother's arms.
Charlotte bowed her head in acknowledgment. She was overwhelmed by their love and their support. She had no doubt that come what may, she could count on the Asburys.
"Your majesty, it is time."
At Lord Edwin's gentle reminder she broke from the circle of sisters and headed towards the coffins. With small hesitant steps she led the way to Lord Bertram first.
He was one of the youngest advisors at court but because of his intellectual abilities people often forgot that. Now as Charlotte started down at the peaceful face of the young lord she couldn't help but wonder at it.
Death had come to claim him too soon. He wouldn't get the chance to marry or hold his own newborn. He wouldn't get the chance to see his nieces and nephews grow up. He wouldn't be scuffling along the halls with piles of books in his hands any longer.
Charlotte touched her two fingers to the Lord's closed eyelids and whispered, "May the Queens guide you home."
She staggered back and let the sisters have some time alone. She turned and gulped once before slowly shuffling towards her father.
There he lay, in a coffin of gold, the brass buttons of his ceremonial uniform glinting in the noon sunlight. His face was relaxed and Charlotte could fool herself into believing that he was just asleep.
She took deep breaths and clutched the edge of the wooden bed. Her body shook with the force of her sobs and she slowly slid to her knees.
Why did he have to go so soon?
She hadn't realised that she had spoken aloud until she heard a small voice answering her.
"He was called back home, princess."
She looked up to see lord Edwin standing on the other side. He seemed to have aged several years overnight and his lined ragged face held a grief that mirrored her own.
He had lost his best friend. Someone who he had followed when they had left their ancestral homes beyond the mountains.
"He wanted to go back one day." She said, referring to the place of her father's birth. She could close her eyes and clearly hear him describing it. The clear lakes and the high mountains reflected in them. The tribes that made their villages wherever they could. The unchallenged wilderness and ancient customs that had always made Charlotte treat the stories like more fairytales.
But they weren't. She was filled with a desire to see those great places. To see where her father had grown up.
"I would like to see Halvaik." Her voice was low and unsure. She wanted her father to answer her. To say that he would love to take her.
But it was Lord Edwin's voice that made her open her eyes. "One day, your majesty."
She pulled herself together and stood up. She breathed deeply and it seemed that the memories of her father's enthusiastic smile and lost eyes were enough to reassure her. He would want her to know and to lead. He would want her to move on.
Charlotte's fingers shook as she placed them on her father's eyes. "May the Queens help you find your way home, father. May you meet mother and my brother there. May you be happy. But wherever you are, please help me when you can. I know you said that I needed to trust myself but how can I when I don't even know what I'm doing? I have good friends around me. But give me a little push in the right direction from time to time. You know when you can and aren't busy bothering the great Queens enough for them to consider sending you back."
She could imagine her father's laughter and the way his eyes always crinkled. A small smile spread across her features. She could get through this.
Charlotte opened her eyes and looked around. Rochelle stood to her right and Lord Edwin and his son stood across from her. She nodded once almost to reassure herself and turned away.
She would try to live up to her father legacy and would do all she could to make him proud.
The Marester appeared before her. He seemed to have materialised from the lazy sunbeams that slanted in through the windows.
A line of Jadus slowly formed on either side of him and Charlotte was glad to see none of them were hurt.
"We are sorry, your majesty. King Maxim was one of a kind. I will never forget him."
She nodded to acknowledge the leader of the Guild's words that resonated in her mind and answered back aloud, "I thank you and your Jadus for your service."
They bowed in unison and Charlotte's breath caught in her throat. It was even more of a staggering sight than the courtiers gesture had been before.
When they rose together, Charlotte looked away to disguise how unprepared she was to step into her new role.
Instead she cleared her throat and said, "when you are ready we shall began the ceremony."
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She stepped back after kissing her father's coffin one last time. Charlotte stood on the hillside surrounded by a field of forget-me-nots. Two coffins rested nearby and the Jadus formed a semi circle around them.
She remembered not long before when she had raised the Stone of Wallows on the base of this very hill. Now she was there for another purpose.
The trip through the village to let the people say one last farewell to their king had been emotional for the princess.
The haunting laments that the townspeople sang still resonated through her bones. She didn't know the words or the tune but they had reminded her of shores she couldn't reach and people she couldn't meet.
The Asbury sisters hadn't joined them in their journey, having requested to be directly sent here. To the hill of remembrance, where every single member of court and the royal family were laid to rest. They had reached the last stage of the ceremony.
The burial.
Charlotte nodded to the Marester and he and his Guild raised their hands. The ground shook in a rhythmic pattern and the earth started slowly taking the grave into its depths. She watched her father's body disappear and soon the ground was smooth once more.
The blue flowers that dotted the hill waved in a gentle breeze and Charlotte couldn't help but remember her father's hatred of them.
On a whim, she stepped forward and raised both arms. She felt her powers uncoiling from within her and let her magic take control. She didn't know what she wanted to do but felt as if something had to be done.
Charlotte felt the drain of her powers being used and suddenly it stopped. She slowly opened her eyes to find that there was now a rose bush in the middle if the field. Right above where her father rested.
The red flowers swayed resolutely amidst the others and Charlotte let herself smile at the sight. Countless nameless people rested in this ground but she could always come back to this rose bush when she felt the need to talk to her father.
She lifted her face up to the sky and basked in the afternoon sun. It shone with all its glory reminding them all that there was hope even when you felt that your world had crumbled around you.