Royal Duty: Closed Thread

“Rise Valentine, to be forever known from this day forward as Sir Valentine Penrose heir apparent to your brother King Jefferson Penrose’s throne.

Vallin, as he preferred to be called, felt Lord Commander Thurston’s sword touch him on either shoulder, before the head of his brother’s royal guard and the man he had squired under for the past 6 years reached a gauntleted hand down to lift him to his feet. As he stood, Vallin took a look around the small courtyard just outside the small Chapple where he had knelt in Vigil for the entire knight, unable to speak of the pain the stone caused him. His mother was there, his younger siblings in toe with her. However, both his brother and his sister in law were conspicuous in their absence. His brother the king was quite ill, after being bitten by a snake while hunting 2 days before. He was expected to recover. He figured the queen, his brother’s wife, must be at his side. There were a handful of nobles present as well as well as a couple other of the royal guard who served under Lord Commander Thurston.

Everything had happened so quickly for Vallin. He had reached his majority at age 18 a number of months ago, and Thurston had pushed him to undergo the trials of knighthood. It wasn’t that Vallin particularly wished to be a knight, but it was expected of his station. Then his brother had been wounded, and then this his vigil, and now what would happen. He couldn’t shake the bad feeling that something worse was on the way. “Something wicked this way comes,” he murmured to himself, quoting some play or at least he thought so.

That feeling did not faulter as he left the courtyard to head back to the palace and he spotted his brother’s wife, their queen approaching him, a phalanx of her guards sweeping out behind her, headed in his direction. As he stopped to wait for her, he watched her approach with apprehension. The brown hair that Vallin usually used to hide his face from the eyes of others, to hide the scars that marred his good looks, where his brother had made his displeasure known with him in no uncertain terms, was tied back for the ceremony, so he had no shield to hide behind, as he normally did, to spare others the sight of him. He especially hid the scars from women especially his mother, for it made her sad, and other women cause of the mockery he suffered. His personal favorite was commenting the theory that he had fellated a trident and the side prongs had sliced either cheek. He was to have appeared before the gods bare faced so he could not deceive them. This incidentally made him barefaced to the queen as she approached.

Though the hair could not slide down to cover his face he still lowered his gaze away from her respectfully. Any sense of confidence he had seemed to exude after being knighted evaporating as he prepared himself for what was to come. He knew it couldn’t be good news. He had either done something to publicly embarrass the crown, or worse, his brother could be dead. He took a deep breath to steady himself bracing for whatever she said.

“My queen, how may I be of service?” he asked finally as the pregnant pause between them grew. Vallin couldn’t ever remember her being one of the ones who was cruel to him, though, she like most others solidly believed above everything that he was gay. Their society was not very tolerant of that lifestyle. So, at a minimum she had gone along with the collective social ostracism that he usually experienced.

He took a deep breath and lifted his face to her, without the hair to hide his facial scars, the looking down just made him look week. “Has something happened?” he asked his eyes, an icier blue than his brothers meeting hers briefly before he looked away.

Queen Eleanor, or Ellie, as only those closest to her had the honor of calling her, walked through the halls of the castle. She looked downcast, staring at her slowly moving feet. Her whole body felt rather numb. Same with her heart. The King was dead. Her husband, the King, was dead. It was so unexpected. Shocking even. He was so young! He was barely over 30, but poison does not discriminate by age.

Ellie could not quite determine how she felt about it. Her husband had been a cruel man for the most part, but he had had his tender moments on occasion. She had to keep reminding herself of those tender moments so she didn't look so unaffected by his death, but the truth was she felt numb in her body and in her emotions. She couldn't let that show of course, so she focused on those sweet moments, like when he brought her wildflowers home from his hunt, when he'd wake her up with kisses, the rare times in the last few years he'd divulge some of his worries to her and she'd cradle him against her breast in comfort. She had to remind herself of those moments in order to feel proper grief. Channel the love she had felt so she didn't think about all the times he'd beat her and called her all sorts of horrible names.

She desperately wanted to be alone right now. To laugh, to cry, she wasn't sure, but she wanted a place to unleash her barely contained emotions at her husband's death. Her thoughts were already on what this meant for her future. Ellie was a Princess from a smaller, neighboring island kingdom and had kind of lucked her way into this, charming the King by chance with her exotic dance at one of his balls. But he'd been unhappy with her almost since their wedding. He was an intense man with a mean streak, and he blamed her for their lack of an heir. She'd miscarried twice in the years they'd been together, and his patience was wearing thin. He'd beat her so hard after each one, blaming her for their unborn children's death. The loss and guilt still hung heavy on her heart.

As she approached Vallin, Sir Vallin now, she could not meet his eyes just as he could not meet hers. She did not want to be the one to deliver the terrible news. What a dreadful fortune for your brother to die on the day of your knighthood.

“My queen, how may I be of service?” Vallin asked. Eleanor realized then she'd been standing before him not saying anything for nearly a minute. “Has something happened?” he prompted.

"I"m awfully sorry to tell you this on today of all days, but King Jefferson is dead," she said simply, voice wavering only slightly. "It was unexpected. Please let the rest of your family know." She finally looked at him as she awaited his response anxiously. His face was heavily scarred. It took some effort not to flinch, not because it was completely abhorrent but because it was a little shocking since she so rarely saw his face. Underneath the scars he seemed rather handsome, though she'd never looked at him long enough to draw a definite conclusion.

Vallin listened to her speak, the flat monotone not showing any of her emotions, not giving voice to any grief, any relief over his brother’s death. From her words he had no idea how she truly felt about it. His blue eyes met hers and he took a deep breath and nodded. “I will tell mother and my siblings.”

Reaching out gently he lay his hand over hers, “I weep with you in your loss.” He said, the formal language of their faith sounding hollow even to his ears. It was clear that he was in shock also, his face showing no emotions. That did not come easy to him though.

How was he gone, how was his tormenter, his king, his brother gone? He lifted his hand as if to touch his face, where the twin scars traced down either sides of his cheeks. He never knew how the glass his brother had shoved him through had caused such a symmetric pattern, but it did. The scars almost resembled jagged bolts of lightning as they zigzagged from the corners of his eyes to his cheeks. He had once thought to tattoo the facial scars to complete the pattern the glass shards had simulated. He had dreamed of turning his shame into a strength.

At the same time, he was frightened of what came now. His people hated him and now he would be thrust into the position of king. Would she let him become king peacefully, or would she try to hold onto her power? “Have arrangements for his entombment been started?” He finally asked her, understanding his duty, he could not afford to fall apart.

The freshly widowed Queen looked back into Vallin's soft blue eyes with her own emerald orbs. Neither Queen nor Knight revealed any emotion in their gazes. Though they spoke of loss, their tone implied they were talking about nothing more dramatic than the weather.

"I weep with you in your loss," Vallin said stoically, placing his hand over hers.

"As do I yours," she said formally.

Queen Eleanor finally looked away from him. It was uncomfortable looking at his scars, especially because she was one of the few people who knew their origin. She only knew because in a night of drunken rage the King had smashed her head against a glass window hard enough to knock her out for a couple of minutes. When she'd awoke he'd told her to stop crying, or he'd actually throw her out the window like he had his brother. Of course, that had only resulted in her crying more and he'd gone on to painfully rape her after that.

She shook off the memory. She didn't have to worry about such things anymore. What she did have to worry about was her future and the safety of the island nation she hailed from. Did their alliance still stand, even with her husband's untimely death?

But Vallin was asking her about the funeral arrangments for his brother, and Ellie decided she could worry about all that later. For now, she had to do her best to play the part of a grieving wife.

"Not yet," she told Vallin. "His body isn't even cold. He's scarcely been dead an hour. They're going to tend to his body soon, but I told them to leave it as is in case you or anyone else wanted to see him first..." she trailed off.

He nodded at her words, “Of course. I’ll be sure to tell my mother, I am sure she would love to see him one last time.” He made no mention of himself, and what he might want to do to his brother’s corpse, probably a good thing. As he spoke, he unfastened the hair and let it slide out around his face with a practiced flick of his head. “Forgive me my queen for not better hiding my scars from you, I know they make you uncomfortable.”

Taking her hand again he bowed low over her hand with the ring of office that her husband had given her. “I shall honor your title as queen until I am officially crowned,” he said, knowing that such a thing was expected, it was a promise of a peaceful transfer of power. “From there I am sure that we can negotiate for the continued safety of your people, even without the bond of marriage to unify our kingdoms. Please send a word to your father that I hold no desire for war.” Their lands could easily subjugate hers, and he wanted to assure her that he did not have imperialism on his mind as his first act as king. Vallin appeared as if there were a weight falling onto his shoulders. He hadn’t resembled a child for some time, but he had lived in his brother’s demonstrative shadow for a long time and it was interesting to see the calm stoicism with which he discussed such serious matters.

After having bowed over her hand he placed his lips to her knuckles and then let her hand fall. “Was there anything else my queen, or should I go to my mother, now and leave you to your grief?”

Eleanor appreciated it when Vallin undid his hair and let it fall heavy around his face, blocking the scars from view. He never asked her why the scars made her uncomfortable, he simply assumed she was disturbed by the sight of them like everyone else. This wasn't entirely the case. The scars meant they shared a common tormenter, they were a reminder of that, and now that man was dead. She wondered how Vallin really felt about it, but she could have no such conversation in front of her guard, nor was it something she felt she could outright ask him.

Vailin's assurance that her home kingdom was in no danger under his rule, even without the connection of marriage, soothed her heart a little bit. She would take him at his word - he had a sincere look about him.

"On behalf of my father and my kingdom, I thank you," she said sincerely.

As he bowed respectfully to her and kissed her hand, some of her long, dark, almost black tresses swept across his fingertips, tickling his hand.

"You can leave me. I must send word to my family as well," she told Vallin. She gave him a small, sad but mysterious smile then took her leave with her guard in tow.

Vallin watched her go and when she was out of sight he slumped. The weight hit him and he looked much younger. He had to look strong in public. So many saw him as a weakling he needed to be strong now, needed to show what he could be. His kingdom did not need rebellion and it was likely to come he could already hear the pejoratives that would be thrown at him, of being a faggot king etc.

He moved through the halls of the castle until he approached a pair of guards standing outside his mother’s rooms. They seemed uncomfortable with his approach. “What do you want maggot,” One said to him. Vallin flinched at the insult. These were a couple of the guards that were well aware that his brother disliked him. “

“ “I am here to see my mother.”

“What makes you think she wants to see you?” the second said.

“I figured she wanted to know that her son, the king is dead,” Vallin said looking up refusing to be cowed this time by them, refusing to give in like every other time. He had played the victim long enough.

“Oh,” one of the guards said paling. As if making the mental connection that the man he had just insulted was about to be the king. He managed to bow and stepped aside for Vallin to pass. The other reaching for the door to announce Sir Valentine to see his royal mother.

His mother looked surprised to see Vallin as he stepped through the door. “I just saw you son, what can I do for you?”

“Mother,” he said softly, “I regret to inform you that Jefferson is dead.” He was surprised at how sad his mother seemed instantly. Tears rolled down her cheeks. It was hard for him to remember that he had been her oldest, and though he was an ass to Vallin and most others, he was still her little boy.

“Why him, why my strong son. Why couldn’t it have been you, you little worm.” Her words cut to the bone. “You are so weak, our kingdom will be torn up by war, they will never accept you as king. Maybe I can just make you regent for Alexander.”

“No mother, I will be king.”

“Silence, you’re just a child.”

“No mother, I am an adult I reached my majority months ago, or were you too drunk to remember the party?” He knew he shouldn’t have said that to her, and probably deserved the slap she dealt his face.

“I drink to help me cope with the shame of having a faggot for a son.” Vallin flinched at her words. “And furthermore, look at you, you don’t even weep for your brother,” and she slapped him again.

Wiping blood from the corner of his mouth he tested his teeth with his tongue, finding they had not been loosened. “You may see the body now mother, it has not been moved until you have a chance to see it.” And with that he bowed still dabbing at the blood her ring had left on his lip, at the corner of his mouth.

People wondered why he publicly looked so cowed, if they only knew what he went through. The urge to strike back was strong. The urge to turn into a king as psycho as his brother was riding him hard. He knew he would do some hard things, but he could not hurt his mother. Those guards would pay, but he just had to take what his mother dished out. He told himself it was just her grief talking.

Leaving, he made his way to his quarters, needing to take a minute to regroup.

Queen Eleanor was relieved when she finally made it back to her chambers. She practically slammed the door on the guard, then leaned against it and signed. Alone at last.

She stayed still for a moment, now standing alone she had a minute to think about her emotions without worrying about everyone's expectations of what her emotions should be. Over time, a small smile spread across her face, then a larger smile, then a huge fucking grin. She was free! There was still a hundred things to worry about of course, but she felt relieved at never having to see Jefferson again. So relieved she fell back onto the covers of her bed and kicked her legs up with glee, making her many skirts billow out around her.

A knock on her door jolted her slightly, but thankfully it was just Elisa, her younger sister. Her youngest sister was very simliar in looks to herself, but a little shorter and with lighter hair, as well as a big mouth. "It's just me. I heard what happened. Should I break out the wine?" She asked, smiling, before she'd even shut the door behind her.

Eleanor was grateful she had her little sister around for support, but she really could be careless with her words sometimes. Elisa had been with Eleanor since the very beginning of her engagement - she too had been a guest at the ball where Eleanor had caught the King's eye. Although Eleanor had trained herself to hold her tongue over the years living here, Elisa still had the blunt tendancies of island life. Luckily, she was generally pleasent and pleasing to look at so her tongue hadn't got her in any serious trouble... yet.

"Shh!" Eleanor scolded. "Someone may hear you."

"So what?" Elisa said. She swept into the room with a big bottle of expensive wine, a bottle they'd brought with them on their last trip home to their island. "I heard King Jefferson's mother drinks on any occasion - to celebrate, to grieve. Besides, you're a Queen. Here, have some." She poured Eleanor a decent serving into a goblet and passed it her way.

Ellie accepted it and took a long drink. When she placed it down on the side table, she suddenly stood, remembering. "I've got to write father."

"And tell him what?"

"That we're coming home, of course." She stood from the bed, grabbed her goblet of wine, and walked across the room to the desk.

Her sister's eyes widened. "What? Your king of how many years has been dead for scarcely an hour and you're just going to abandon the Kingdom?"

Ellie scoffed. "Abandon? You speak as if I had any power or influence at all here."

She dipped her quill in ink and began to start her letter. Dear Father... It is with great sadness that I...

"Really, think about how that would look!" Elisa followed Ellie to the desk. "I may not talk as pretty as you do, but I know people, and people'd be pissed if the Queen just left after her beloved King died. No, you've got to stay through it all: His funernal, the coronation of Vallin as new King, and then the seduction of King Vallin..."

Eleanor laughed at that. "What are you talking about? Marrying Vallin? He has less respect than any man in the Kingdom."

"Yes, but he's next in line for the throne. Now people have to respect him," Elisa said. "Your marriage to Jefferson was our golden ticket to peace, with his death goes the ticket - you need to get another one."

"Vallin has already assured me our Kingdom's safety - that the treaty will still stand even without the bond of marriage," Eleanor said, repeating Vallin's words from earlier.

Her sister gave her a quizzical look. "Forgive me for not having confidence in our dear King Vallin. You really think his word alone will be strong enough to stand against the will of his advisors, some of whom, might I remind you, still have a bitter taste in their mouths from the short but bloody war we had when we were kids? I think it best to stay close to him yourself, to ensure he has our Kingdom's best interests at heart."

Queen Eleanor sighed. Her sister's logic was sound, but that didn't mean she agreed to the idea. "I'm still going to write father. Get his opinion." She turned to look at her sister, who still hovered beside her at the desk. "Do you mind?"

"Yeah yeah, I know when I'm not wanted." Elisa headed for the doors. Just before she left she quipped, "You know father's just going to agree with me, so why bother?"

Ellie turned to respond but her sister had already left her alone. She'd also left the wine. Ellie appreciated that as she later sat in bed after finishing the letter, drinking another glass to put her mind and body at ease. Her first night sleeping alone without the threat of Jefferson storming in angerily late a night to take his anger out on her. After finishing her wine and pondering on what her sister said, she breathed peacefully as sleep beckoned.

His brother smelled like shit. That was all Vallin could think as he stood, dressed in full armor in the grand Chapple where his brother would lie in state for three days before being entombed. Dressed in his finest clothes, Vallin noted that they still could do nothing for the smell of his brother. A smell that would only get worse. The great equalizer. It was said that men had a last orgasm when they died. He did not know about that, but Vallin could attest that they had one last bowel movement. Hadn’t they bothered to wash him?

Vallin tried to school his thoughts and shifted his weight, the point of the mighty war sword he held grating against the ground. His mother had convinced him that he had to stand at least one of the nights in vigil for his brother. After having stayed awake the whole night the night before, Vallin was dead on his feet. However again, he was a slave to custom. He dreaded having to stand all three days, however Lord Commander Thurston had offered to stand at least one of the nights, allowing Vallin to sleep the following night. He just had to make it another 24 hours and he could sleep, and tomorrow he would have to stand in this armor while the castle staff payed their respects to his brother—who still smelled like shit.

At the very least he had a lot of time to think. How would he rule, what would he do? His advisors were already calling for war against the queen’s homeland. Others were calling for him to stand as king regent for his brother Alexander, he could sense his mother’s hand behind that one, she had said as much to him. He had stood firm, in 5 days, he would be crowned. The day after his brother was laid to rest.

The sun dawned 2 days later, and again Vallin stood as the rest of the family filed in to pay their respects to the king. He was curious how many of them would stand to receive the people’s respects along with the king. He knew that Eleanor would be there, and his mother and brother might stand with him, however only the queen as the king’s widow and he as the knight standing vigil were the only two required to stand all day, for this third and final day of mourning, this one open to the public. As the others approached, not for the first time, he was glad to be wearing a helm, that obscured his face, so no one could see the scars. He was the faceless knight honoring the fallen king. The armor he wore was snow white, with no markings, showing he was serving the gods, completely nameless and anonymous.

Ellie stared at her fair skin in the mirror. She'd lost much of her tan complexion over the years in this new climate. The color in her skin had faded along with some of her spirit. It made her look ghostly, she thought, with her long black hair. At least she had bright green eyes to bring some life into her. Today, however, the intent was to look dead. She was to attend the third & final day of her dearly departed's memorial service, and stand with his body all day. She practiced her mournful face in the mirror, but no matter what she did she couldn't make her sadness look genuine. So instead she opted for a natural demure, downcast expression. They couldn't expect her to look on the verge of tears all the time, right?

She recalled how the dead were treated in her homeland. Their bodies would immediately be tended to and then displayed. Family and friends had the day to say goodbye. Then, when night fell the body was burned to be given back to the gods, ashes meant to mix with the stars. There was no extravagant display over several days and stuffy speeches and outfits. Everything had always felt very fake here and she didn't understand why she had to stand beside her dead husband's body all day. Was this expected of the common woman? Or was this custom only for royalty? She'd have to ask Darren later. He'd been the ambassador to Jefferson's country before she'd even met the King. He was a selfish man, but cultured.

Anyway, she shouldn't complain - she only had to stand by the dead King's body for the daylight hours. Poor Vallin had been standing there for over 24 hours now, standing guard. What was the point? She suspected they were just doing it to torture him. His very own mother seemed to dislike him, after all. Thinking about her sister's advice, she figured this may be a good opportunity to get to know him or at least share in his misery. Of course, this wasn't exactly the proper venue, but people would be in and out. Surely she would be able to get a word in with him.

When she entered along with her sister and several others from her house, she spotted Vallin immediately. His armor was a striking white against the sea of dark greys and blacks. She left her sister to go and greet him before she took her place at the opposite end of the casket. She couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at the smell as she approached. It was absolutely horrid! And she had to stand guard all day?

If her kingdom wasn't so vulnerable, she probably would have gone home. She longed for the seashores and the palm trees, the imposing volcano at the center of the island and the rounded thatch houses and her elaborate jungle palace. But it was her duty as the eldest to protect her family, and if that meant she had to be far from them in order to do so, she would do it.

"Good morning," she said politely to Vallin upon approaching him. A large helm covered his face, but his posture gave away his exhaustion. She really felt great pity for him. "How are you doing? Please tell me you've had something to eat."

On this the third day of vigil, Vallin was exhausted. He had spent the greater part of the past 4 days awake, and most of it in the heavy plate armor. He tried not to lean on the lance he held. The first night it had been the two-handed great sword of their kingdom. Now days later, he had switched to a war lance with the flag on its barbed tip. He’d changed weapons in part, so he could lean on the weapon when no one was looking. It had been a silent tip he had learned from Thurston when he stood Vigil, plus the flag on the point of the lance was a good touch for the small folk that would be coming through today. Day one had been the palace staff, day two the nobility, and this today day three the common folk. He was glad to have missed most of the nobles and their comments the day before, but today, today he would have to endure all of it.

The queen and his royal mother had not been required to stand with him the previous days as the nobles were invited to a party in his brother’s honor, they were permitted to pay their respects to the queen at that event. However, the common folk would wish to see their beloved queen.

He was a bit surprised that the queen addressed him. He shook his head with a barely perceptible movement. “It is not permitted during Vigil,” he said. “The knight serving as the vessel for the gods should be free of worldly concerns.” He hoped that didn’t sound as tired and exasperated as he felt. “The queen looks lovely as always,” he offered after a moment.

“How did I raise a son with such terrible posture?” His mother’s snide comment to his aunt and brother was clearly audible to him. He was glad again that the helm hid the fact that she made him grit his teeth. He Unconsciously straightened taller though. Unwilling to have her find fault in his vigil.

Eleanor frowned at Vallin, genuinely concerned. She reached out and touched his shoulder delicately as if her feather-light touch would be enough to collapse the exhausted man. She opened her mouth to say something, but then the dreadful voice of her beloved mother-in-law squawked behind her, remarking loudly that Vallin should stand up straight. Ellie watched as Vallin forced himself to straighten. She'd never been fond of her mother-in-law. The woman was insufferable, actually. Ellie found she was grateful she didn't have to parade around with her and could instead stand next to the rotting body of her dead husband, as strange as that sounded.

She took her place opposite Vallin and gazed down at her dearly departed husband. Even in death, he seemed to be scowling, though the hard, angular lines of his face had seemed to sag slightly. He smelled horrid. She felt nothing but disgust upon looking at him so she quickly averted her gaze, raising her handkerchief to her face to conceal her sour look. She pretended to dab at her eyes for a moment or two, then hung her hands in front of her, placed together delicately, expression downcast.

Throughout the day various men and women of the kingdom came to pay their respects. She did her best to appear welcoming to the common folk - though it was the royalty she had to worry about going to war with, she hoped if the public's opinion of her was strong, perhaps war was less likely.

He couldn’t really feel her touch, but he thought the gesture sweet. He wondered what she might have said but they were interrupted by his mother. Then they were separated as she took her place.

“His older has not gotten better with time,” he commented dryly, just loud enough so Ellie could hear.

“What’s that smell,” one little girl asked her mother, “Mommy, the king stinks.”

“Ssshhh, child, we don’t speak ill of the dead.”

“Why not, damn fool can’t hear you now,” With his mother out of the Chapple, apparently Vallin had found his acerbic tone, though he kept his voice a low murmur so only Ellie could hear. He expected her to castigate him for his words, for his disrespect, but he just honestly couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. He was tired, hungry, and humor was his way of coping in this moment.

“Excuse me, I am being disrespectful,” he said more loudly trying to backpedal a bit, just encase he had offended her. She could still order him whipped or worse until his coronation.

For a loving mother, she didn't stay very long, Eleanor thought bitterly, watching her mother-in-law leave the Chapple less than an hour after arriving. She was about to comment about it but then Vallin commented on the smell of the departed King.

Ellie bit back a laugh at Vallin's words. "Probably why your mother didn't stay very long," she quipped back out of the corner of her mouth.

She tried to rearrange her expression back to one of mourning as a mother and child approached, but luckily she didn't have to maintain her composure for long as the child made an obvious but dreadfully inappropriate observation about the smell of the room.

It was just perfect timing too. Vallin commented on it and Ellie quickly turned so she faced the casket so no one could see her laugh. Her shoulders shook, but from behind it looked like she'd just been overcome by tears. Vallin was funny! Why had she not noticed this before? She supposed she'd been too busy trying not to offend her husband to really notice anyone else. Staring down at him now, some of her laughter was replaced with anger. Feeling safe with the young man, feeling he too detested the dead King, Ellie spoke.

"Don't apologize. I hope he burns." She didn't say where, but she didn't need to. She had a feeling Vallin would know exactly where she meant.

She laughed at his comments. He was surprised but pleased at that. He smirked behind his helmet.

“Yes, burns, like an infestation of fire ants in his pants,” he muttered. Our great king, who’s greatest legacy is that he smells like shit, proving that at the end of your life, everybody poops.” The tone was low, but still dry as hell.

A woman approached the casket and spoke, “Who is the knight serving the gods in vigil for our king.”

“His brother, the knight Sir Valentine,” Vallin responded.

Her lip curled, “Tell me, sir,” her turned the sir into an insult. “Do you not stand straight because your ass is sore from all the pounding you take from your lovers? Has that lance perhaps been used to bugger you up the arse?”

“You know, I thought it was because I was tired,” he said standing straighter, “My lovers seem to be gentler than yours my lady, please see one of the councilors of justice if you have been violated in any way,” he said, managing to keep his composure.

The woman sputtered, “That’s not what I meant. I was referring to all the butt sex you are having as a lover of men.”

“Oh, yes, and I was telling you that my lovers do not hurt me so, if you are left unable to stand up straight, I would question the quality of your lovers, or perhaps I’m just better at taking it up the ass than you are my lady?”

“I would never,”

“Really? Cause you seem to know a lot about what it feels like, and how it would affect me.”

The woman was blushing now with a combination of embarrassment and fury, but finally turned her attention to Eleanor. “I am guessing you’re running back to your home now that our beloved king is dead, hmm?”

It actually physically hurt to prevent herself from bursting out laughing at Vallin's comment about their dearly departed king, but unless she could turn that laugh into a mournful wail, it had no place at a funeral service like this. Eleanor bit her lip hard and stared at her husband's wretched face to bring enough bitterness back into her expression to properly face the crowd.

When she did, she saw a woman was approaching. She didn't look like royalty, but she carried herself with such arrogance she might as well have been. Her conversation with Vallin started innocently enough, but then she started being downright disrespectful. Eleanor was taken aback by this woman's rudeness. It was one thing for Vallin's family to push him around, but this woman was a stranger, and they were at a funeral! She spoke to Vallin like he was lesser than her. How had this happened? How had Vallin earned the distaste of his family and the public? It had been this way ever since she met the King at his ball all those years ago. Ellie didn't understand, because aside from his unsettling scars, Eleanor hadn't found a thing wrong with him.

She wasn't sure where all the gay rumors had come from either, but she very much hoped they weren't true or her plan to convince him to marry her was just outright not going to work.

Eleanor was going to tell the woman to leave, but Vallin stood up for himself. Several of his comments made Ellie smirk, and the woman's reactions made her outright smile. When the woman had enough of losing in this battle of wits with Vallin, she turned to Eleanor with another disrespectful comment.

“I am guessing you’re running back to your home now that our beloved king is dead, hmm?”

Ellie kept the smile on her face when she answered. "Actually, I think I'll stay here. There's still a lot of good that can be done here, lots of judgemental minds I'd like to change." She let her words linger for a moment before she continued.

"Also, I ask that you please not address Sir Vallin again. That kind of talk has no place at my husband's funeral. Actually, that kind of talk has no place anywhere. And unless you'd like me to call over the guards to throw you out on your ass, I'd suggest you watch your tone with us," she said evenly. Her expression gave away none of the disdain she felt for the woman. She knew the woman could say nothing back - she was still the Queen, at least for a few more days.

The woman scowled and, having lost the duel of wits, took her leave.

"Insufferable," Eleanor said softly after the woman had left. "How do you put up with this?"

He turned to face the queen lifting the visor to let her see his face briefly, making a point to show her the scars, the sardonic expression before he let the visor fall again. “You’ve met my mother my queen, you met my brother, you have seen some of the things I have endured in this life. That woman was nothing. A minor boil on the ass of my life. You pop it and move on. There are far worse things, words that one cannot easily block out.” With that he turned away facing front stoically again.

His face had looked drawn and there were dark circles under the blue eyes when he had shown her his face. Unfortunately for Vallin, he knew that that would only be the first of a long litany of snide comments he would hear all day. Like he told her though, they did not cut as deep as the ones his mother or brother threw at him.

He desperately hoped that no one could hear his stomach rumble, he feared it would echo in the metal plate armor. He was also thirsty. He had to remind himself that the knight of the gods had to be free of worldly concerns. He had to just endure this parade of weeping common folk who honestly had no idea how little their beloved king really gave a shit about them. He was their hero, what a fucking joke.

Eleanor felt a great amount of pity for Vallin as he explained he'd had to endure far worse from his mother and brother. She'd only had to deal with the insults and violence from his brother for a few years, but Vallin had been dealing with him his whole life. She realized she'd never bothered to get to know him well, and she regretted that now. It sounded like he could really use a friend, and she knew she could have, especially her first few years at the castle. She had her sister of course and some other members of the island court who'd come along, but other than her sister there was no one she could really talk to. As she forced herself not to avert her gaze from Vallin's scarred face, she thought perhaps he was someone she could relate to, at least in regards to their shared trauma at the hands of the king.

"You look horrid," she said bluntly when he raised his helmet. "And I'm not talking about the scars that mar your handsome face. Your eyes look sunken - you need sleep and a good meal. I don't understand your culture. Why guard a stinking dead man, even if he is the king? I insist you join me for dinner after your vigil is over."

"You must be just devasted, my lady," a scratchy voice interrupted them. Eleanor had been so focused on Vallin she hadn't noticed the old woman approach. It was a kindly looking peasant woman. Eleanor did her best to look sad. It wasn't that hard to do.

"Oh yes, it was so unexpected, so tragic," she sniffled, paused for a moment as if caught up in her emotions, "but I'm doing my best to cope. I have to be strong for the kingdom."

"Gods bless you, my queen," the old lady curtsied so low Ellie briefly worried she would not be able to stand again.

The old lady gave them her condolences then went to pray over the king, but even her old wrinkled nose couldn't stand being there for more than a few moments. There was no getting used to the smell, but Vallin and Ellie were stuck there for several more hours.

A couple on the fringe of the upper class strode over next, but they seemed more interested in taunting Vallin than honoring the deceased king.

"When they told us the knight standing vigil was Vallin we scarcely believed it," the man said to Eleanor. "Tell me, my Queen, is it true they plan to crown the faggot prince as our next King?"

Again, Eleanor was struck by such hostility. She balked for a moment, and the woman took the opportunity to cut in, "Or perhaps you will be our new king, Queen Eleanor? And Vallin will be your maid?"

She wondered what made these people think they could speak to her in such a way. She would have to ask her sister who exactly they were later. She was far more up to date on the gossip around the kingdom.

"I ask that you hold your tongue on such matters in respect for our deceased king.
It is said cheap insults are often the manifestation of truth in one's self. Tell me, when did your wife start being the one to fuck your ass and not the other way around?"

The couple was shocked such words came from the queen's mouth, and to be honest, Eleanor was a little shocked herself, but it felt good. It felt freeing to fight back, even if it was just a duel of words with strangers.

“My vigil ends at sunset my queen, if that is your desire, I will join you,” Vallin said formally. When the older woman bent low, he smiled. “Blessing to you Mother Rel,” he offered to the peasant woman and there was genuine love and kindness for her in his words. “I will seek out your blessing in the morning prior to laying my brother to rest.” The woman only gave him a smile recognizing the man behind the helmet.

However, he could not focus on the happiness the kindly priestess drew out of him for long for the ambassador from the western lands approached the queen. He was unsure if they did not know he was standing right there or if they didn’t care. He was startled that the queen actually defended him, using similar tactics to what he had used on the last woman who insulted him.

When they had walked off, he spoke up, “Ambassador Bargatze will not take kindly to your words. Be wary that he does not try to turn this into an international incident. I am not worth starting a war over my queen.”

Vallin knew the name of the elderly woman, and she heard the kindness in his voice as he addressed her. She thought it ws nice he knew the common folk. Eleanor wished she could say the same. In truth, she hadn't strayed far from the castle in her years here. She spent a lot of time in her room, trying to avoid the public eye. Some of the time it was due to the bruises her husband left behind, but admittedly she'd had plenty of opportunities to venture out of her room, even the castle. She hadn't taken advantage of any of them though, instead choosing to live most of her hours in solitude, reading or working on her paintings.

Vallin also knew who the snotty couple was. Apparently, the man was an ambassador of some sort. He hadn't looked like one, and he certainly didn't act as an ambassador should. She was really going to have start paying attention if she was serious about protecting her kingdom

Ellie tried to act confident and sure in her response, despite the anxiety Vallin's warning had just stirred inside her. "On the contrary, you are one of the only things worth fighting a war over. You will be King. If these people won't respect you on their own, you need to make them."

Vallin nodded his helmeted head, “Yes, and there will be deaths following my coronation,” he said softly, darkly. He wanted to elaborate but did not dare. “That being said their petty insults are not worth a war. There may be some others who will not be so easily forgiven.”

He ground the butt of the lance against the floor as he shifted position. “If only the gods will forgive me for what I do.”

“I appreciate your attempt to defend me, so few do,” he finally offered her trying to change the subject.

Eleanor did not like the sound of that. Deaths following his coronation? Was he not the next in line to be King? If not him, then who? His kid brother with his mother acting as the puppeteer? And why would the gods need to forgive him? She wondered how he would wield the weapon of power. She held her questions however, now was not the time to discuss such things. They probably shouldn't even be conversing with the backdrop of their dead King either, but neither respected him enough to care.

"You're right. I should be more careful in what I say. It just angers me so to see them treat you this way."

He told her though he was not worth it, he appreciated her attempt to defend him. She smiled at him kindly. "You're welcome. It's just horrible the way they treat you, but they're just getting in their last chance to torment you. Things will be different when you become King," she said it like a guarentee.

Vallin was glad that the queen could not see his face for he was surprised and skeptical as she spoke. He bit his tongue and did not voice the snarky comments that would alienate her, asking why she’d never bothered to defend him before. Those were the angry words of a child. He wasn’t a child anymore; he was to be king. “I am not worth the worry,” was what he did say, turning that anger inward as he always did and put himself down yet again.

As she said this was their last chance he grunted, “I can’t exactly see them stopping just because there’s a circle of gold on my head. My luck they’ll just find a way to turn my crown into a faggot joke,” he muttered this last part, before straightening and addressing a family that were paying their respects to the king.

“I want to grow up to be a knight,” a young boy was telling his father.

“You cannot become a knight. You know we haven’t the money to get you training, the armor, and we don’t know a knight that could take you on as a page.”

“But Papa,”

“No more arguments son.”

Vallin moved from his post at the king’s feet. He circled around the back of the coffin and handed Eleanor his lance. “Do not lose this,” he said to her softly. Then louder, “I formally give this our flag into the care of the queen.”

Then, without warning he moved to block the parent and child from walking away. He knelt in front of the boy coming down to his height. “You want to be a knight?” he asked the lad.

The boy nodded looking a bit frightened to be addressed by the man in the armor, but his tone was firm when he spoke, “I do.”

“You can always change your stars child; we are not trapped to be what life has set before us.”

“What do you mean?” the boy asked.

Vallin pushed up his visor to let the boy see his face, “Do you know who I am?”

“Sir Valentine, the king’s brother, the royal fag.” The father looked mighty uncomfortable at that last descriptor now realizing who was addressing his son.

“That’s all true, but you see, even by your words you recognize how people put me down, and yet I never gave up, I am a knight and to be king.”

“I am so sorry my lord that he would call you such,”

Vallin looked up at the father, “A child knows not such words without learning at the knee of a father.” The father closed his mouth and just nodded looking sheepish.

“So, you’re saying I can become a knight?” the boy asked,

“Yes. Come on the morrow and ask to see Lord Yarwin. He oversees all the pages and squires in the castle. He is a hard man but fair, tell him that Sir Valentine told you that you were to be given a position as a page. Can you follow orders?” The boy nodded eagerly, “Very good.”

Vallin half expected the father to object, but the man wisely kept his mouth shut, knowing that Vallin had just offered his son, a peasant farmer’s son, a far better life than he could have possibly given him. The look was there in his eyes though, how could he do such a thing when he the father clearly had shown nothing but disrespect to Vallin. “I will be sure to bring him,” he finally stammered and bowed awkwardly.

“I do hope we can dispense with the faggetry language though good sir?” Vallin asked the father as he stood.

“Of course, sir, my lord I mean, I promise you I will not use that again. You are a noble man and I thank you.”

Vallin nodded and watched them walk off. Shutting his visor, he walked back over to Eleanor to reclaim his lance. “Thank you for minding that for me,” he said before he walked back to his place and stood there again, waiting to see what happened next. The light through the windows showing that they had but only a few more hours of this.

Vallin didn't seem heartened by her promise respect would be given to him once he became King. He said the people would still taunt him. He mumbled the last bit, but Ellie was pretty sure he'd referenced the general public's perception of him as gay as being one of the reasons even being King wouldn't stop their disrespect. "Perhaps if you--" Ellie was about to suggest he marry quickly when a young boy and his father approached. The little one wanted to grow up to be a knight but his father was discouraging him. To her surprise, Vallin got involved. He walked over to her and passed his lance to her. She couldn't help but scoff when he told her not to lose it. Did he really think she was so incapable she could lose such a large weapon?

Eleanor watched as Vallin approached the father and son and spoke so calmly to them. He told the boy he could be a knight if he wanted, and to visit Lord Yarwin to get started along a path to become a knight.

"That was quite kind of you, Sir Vallin," she observed when he took his lance back from her. "Perhaps you should take your own advice. "We are not trapped to be what life has set before us."" She quoted the words he'd said to the child back to him.

Before he got a chance to respond, a familiar face approached. "Elisa!" she said with a smile, losing her practiced despondent expression.

"Hey Ellie! Don't look so happy. This is your husband's memorial service, after all," she said with a wink. She was accompanied by one of the ladies from their island who served them at court. Elisa turned her attention to Vallin then. "You hanging in there? Just a couple more hours guarding the bastard, right?"

"Elisa, please," Eleanor hushed her. It was one thing for her and Vallin to make inappropriate comments in hushed voices to one another when no one was around, but her sister was talking like this right in the open.

Vallin nodded his helmeted head to her as she told him he did a kind thing. He frowned in his helmet, again hidden by his visor as she threw his own words back at him. He wanted to reply but before he could they were again interrupted, that seemed to be happening a lot today. He was finding that he might actually want to have an uninterrupted conversation with her, she seemed to be more than what he had previously seen.

The next visitor was Elisa, her sister checking on them. She addressed Vallin like they were friends. She had never seemed interested in him before so he was puzzled by her. Her words about his brother caused him to stiffen visibly. It was one thing for Eleanor and he to make such comments, but it felt wrong blasphemous to have her do so. “Please keep a civil tongue in your head,” he ground out. It was less that he cared as much as he feared his mother’s spies, he had to publicly denounce such talk. “We mustn’t speak ill of the dead,” he said. It was like the Vallin that Ellie had witnessed moments ago was gone, and he was now his mother’s puppet her hand up his ass directing him.

He was seething behind the helm that she had put him in such a position. “Good day to you Lady Elisa,” and with that he turned away from her to address more of the commoners paying respects to the king. Vallin hated doing what he’d just done but he had been well schooled in haughty dismissal, and that’s what he’d shown her.

He couldn’t help but to wonder if Eleanor would understand what he had done, what he had had to do, or would it shatter the delicate connection they had been starting to form.