The King’s garden was grand in both size and beauty. The fact that they were brought indoors was nothing short of amazing. The feat itself could only be dwarfed by the beauty on display.
Princess Zara knelt near the casket that held her father, trying unsuccessfully to hold back the tears that streamed down her pale face to splatter the marble below.
Sir Drayton knelt down onto his left knee by the Princess’s side, using his right hand to keep the longsword that hung from his hip from scaping the floor. It felt strange to not have t he weight of his shield upon his back, but shields were not funeral attire. “Do not cry Pincess. Your father, he would not like to see your cheeks wet with tears.
Her reply came in a soft, muffled voice as she spoke more to the floor than to him. “My father is not here though, and how can I not mourn? The kingdom will surely suffer without him. As will I.”
“The kingdom is strong princess, as are you. Do not short them or yourself, for that it not fair to anyone involved, especially your father. The grounds of the kingdom that yielded this most floriferous display, will accept your father into its bosom and he will make the kingdom stronger still.”
Sir Drayton proffered a kerchief, white and pure as fresh fallen snow, to the Princess which she pulled from his fingers after a moment’s hesitation.
Pushing blonde ringlets aside, she dabbed her eyes dry before handing the kerchief back. “Thank you Sir, your words give comfort where comfort is hard to find.” Her voice grew stronger as she stood and looked about with fresh eyes. “Would you accompany me to the balcony. The ceremony will begin soon, and I would not like for all the Kingdom to see me here blubbering away.”
“The kingdom would not see it as such I think, but as a daughter who has lost a father. Nothing could be more natural than that.”
They walked away from the display, to the stair that led to the balcony where Sara would oversee the proceedings. She seemed to grow with each step, as she embraced the challenges that lay ahead.
When she spoke again all softness and doubt had left her voice. “That may be true, but the people cannot see me as a daughter. Indeed, the time has passed when they could view me as Princess. I am the Queen now, and I must be strong.”
Reaching the stair, Queen Sara continued on her way alone. Sir Drayton took up position at the bottom of the stair, hand on sword hilt.
Once his queen was away, he tucked the still damp kerchief inside a small pocket sewn on the inside of his shirt for safe keeping. If he was right, there would come a time in the near future that he would need it.
Short Tuesday is a little something I try to do… on Tuesdays! Sorry, couldn’t help it. Anyway, I take a word, a word like floriferous and try my best to write a short story with it. The words typically come from Dictionary.com’s word of the day e-mails that show up in my inbox every morning around 8:12am, but aren’t limited to them.
I hope you enjoyed reading my Short! Feel free to come back anytime.