The King retired to chambers of his own. Several of his kinsmen brought up chest after chest from the hidden library in the ancient dragon-hold, deep beneath the castle. During his time as the Inquisitor, he and Chrysanthemum had spirited many of his old things down into the crypt. He knew Belladonna had communed with the dragon and plundered the wealth once stored there long ago. Most of the kingdom's inhabitants had long since forgotten of its existence, and Belladonna had no further use for it. With Chrysanthemum's help, they'd little by little restored the archives and king's trove into the hold.
Now that he was released, he had his kinsman begin installing him in proper quarters. He promised himself that the tower which had held him prisoner was not long for this world. Though he did not yet know what would replace it is dark walls, the room which held him would come down before the harvest, of that he was certain.
He found in one of the chests a fine tunic and jerkins. He found that his mail boots had been brought down from his former cell 'neath the eaves of the dark tower. Someone had polished them bright. The breast and arm plates had been brought as well, and they brought a sense of comfort as he donned them. The King draped a regal robe 'round him. He fastened it about the collar with a heavy chain of gold. It hung across his shoulders and down his back, the deepest burgundy entwined with embroidered filigree. He heard a rustle behind him. Turning, he saw his new bride. She was resplendent in her green gown. He bade her come close, noticing she brought with her a young lady dressed in an indigo gown. When the maid saw the King, her eyes grew wide, and she fell upon her face.
"Oh good grief!" said Queen Laurel, somewhat aggravated by her new maid's fondness for bowing and genuflection. To the King, Laurel made introductions.
"Husband," said she. "May I present my new maid-servant, the Lady Violet. You'll find she often assumes this posture." she added, referring to the worshipful comportment she'd assumed.
The King smiled warmly. "Arise, my child. There is no need to kneel before me, if you art lady-in-waiting to my bride, you need not sully your dresses on my account." To the Queen, he added, "That did not take long." referring to her new-found serving girl.
Queen Laurel playfully rolled her eyes at him, and then brought the conversation back to business at hand.
"Come, husband," She said, drawing to his side, entwining her arm in his. "the sun of the afternoon sinks lower even as we speak. I can tell by the commotion outside that a large crowd has gathered. They wonder at this mysterious proclamation. Shall we allay their questions?"
"Indeed," said the King, a great happy smile across his face. "But first, there is one last bit of business to attend to. This way, my dear."
He led them back into the throne room. The Lady Violet was clearly awed at being in this heart of the castle. The Queen caught her wonder, and bade her come close and hold her head high.
The King left the ladies near the throne. He crossed behind them to a gently curved portion of wall. The golden threads which were so prevalent throughout the castle writhed within the wall here in a great confluence. The strands of gold seemed to coil back on themselves, creating a large knot of filigree near where he stood.
He passed his hands slowly over the design, murmuring words the others could not catch. A low rumble emanated from he wall, and as the Queen her new maid watched, a portion of wall slid sideways, revealing a large recessed compartment. Both Violet and Laurel had to cover their eyes as rays of afternoon sunlit streamed in through the windows high above, setting ablaze whatever was contained within the chamber.
With great reverence, the King lifted out two glorious crowns. The metal and fretwork was burnished gold and silver, and the gleamed bright in the sunlight. The King drew close to Laurel, and held out one of the magnificent crowns to her.
It was small and light, a circlet of gold, interwoven with winding knots of silver vines. Ivy leaves sprouted from the vines, each carved from an single, exceptionally deep green emerald. Rounded purple stones studded 'round the circlet, and a fretwork of delicate gold lacework enclosed over the center. The fretwork formed an airy, golden cap, twining up to a rounded peak, supporting a flawless blue diamond.
Laurel found she could barely fathom such delicate golden beauty. It was by far the most exquisite piece of craft she had ever laid eyes upon. Her mouth was a perfect 'O', and the King motioned for her to bend down a bit. Slowly, he placed it upon her hair, brushing a long, dark curl back over her ear. She was surprised at how light it was, expecting it to be exceptionally heavy upon her head.
"Now, my dear..." he said stepping back, taking in the sight of her. "I crown thee Queen."
Young Violet could scarcely contain herself. She excitedly bounced up and down on her heels, clapping her hands, clearly lost in admiration of her new mistress.
On his own head, he placed his crown. It was similar to her own, but far more massive and imposing. Its golden circlet supported a coiled dragon, carved of purest gold. From behind the crown, the sharp, pointed wings of the dragon rose up on either side, as if a tiny golden dragon had decided to coil itself round his head. The snarling face of the dragon lay across the top of the King's head, mouth open, teeth sharp and shining. So lifelike was the carving, it made the new Queen a bit uneasy to see it coiled there, as if glaring directly at her. Its eyes were faceted rubies, and it's talons were diamond bright.
Seeing the wide eyes of the new Queen and her maid, he remarked. "It's quite heavy. I only wear it at formal occasions. In battle, I wear a different helm..." his voice trailed off as if lost in thought. To her credit, the new Queen said nothing.
"Now, my Queen... shall we?" She took his arm, and they headed out of the throne room. As they entered the Great hall, the Queen was most surprised to see Sereth, Foxbane and several of the outlander's company waiting for them. They were resplendent, all done up in their finest robes and armour, all polished and gleaming. Even more surprising than finding them gathered there in rigid stance, was the sight of Tymrill.
He to was well dressed and done up in his own. His scratched face appeared much better to the princess, the cuts and scratches faded and faint. The only element that was out of place was his mighty arm, slung across his chest and bound fast, immobile. Laurel caught his eyes, and he inclined his head, bowing slightly to her. His face held an expression she could not quite place. Though it was neither angry nor malicious, she felt a slight chill nonetheless.
As the King entered, they came to attention, the heels of their booted feet coming together smartly. Across their plated chests, they clapped a forearm and straightened hand, a crisp salute. The King smiled warmly, coming to each, paying them the proper greetings and courtesies in the old way. At last he reached Tymrill, and they spoke for many moments quietly. Neither the Queen or the gathered company could make out their words. She noticed Tymrill showing his slung arm, and the King shaking his head sadly. At last, Tymrill straightened, coming to an even smarter attention, clasping the forearm of the King, as he clasped his.
The King returned to Laurel, taking her arm once more. At once, the company of men fell in procession, two guards processing with pikes going before the King and Queen. The rest of the men took up flanking positions on either side, or fell in step behind. Violet followed just behind them. As she took up her position, she saw the eyes of one of the men alight upon the new scars on her face. She colored and bowed her head, her dark curls falling into her face.
The procession went out from the great hall, making their way up several stairs, until they came into the Golden tower. Before them lay the great stair, and up they went, toward the balconies adjoining the Queen's former chambers.
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