13 : Too Soon

"How many more cases left to be heard, Smithe?" Drake asked between a yawn, leaning back on his throne. It was court day. Every week, he had to suffer on that day, as the king left the burden of judgements on his shoulders. And to think that he would have to suffer more such days due to the King being on bed-rest!

Thorne Smithe looked at Drakon, trying to hide his disapproval of his casualty on such an 'important' day. But evidently, he wasn't that good of an actor. He said, "Only two more. Then we shall spend a few minutes on the matter of the Annual Ball after which, you'll be free."

Gah! Drakon hated the Ball, but it was necessary for the population check, and his father was of the opinion that common people should have at least one day in which they can have enjoyment all together, away from their regular lives. A day when nobody was part of Royalty and nobody was common. A day to celebrate equality. Thus, he had decided to hold an Annual Ball and Drakon, unfortunately, had been going along with his plan for so long with no option otherwise.

He spent the next few minutes listening to his stammering subjects, who were too foolish to solve their problems on their own, and had to take the help of the court. After they were all done, Smithe said, "Now, court is closed, and you are to give instructions to prepare for the ball, the date and such, Your Highness."

"Call the court planners," Drakon ordered, yawning. A plan had already formed in his mind.

Smithe rang a bell. Immediately, three women dressed in fashionable, long gowns, arrived. One was brunette and the other two blonds. They were surprisingly - not so surprisingly - sober before Drakon, considering that they batted their eyelashes and flirted with all the men in the castle, except him. They didn't do it before him, and frankly, if they did, he would literally have their heads torn apart from their bodies! He hated them, he hated most people in general, and he certainly wouldn't have given up on any excuse to have them gone.

They bowed, their eyes cast down. Drakon started speaking in a calm, decisive manner. "The Ball is to be held on 1st December. Send out messengers today afternoon to announce to the public. Begin decorating the ball room. Use any colours apart from pink and orange." He said, eyeing their bright dresses in disgust.

They all looked at him, trying to disguise their surprise at his lack of elaboration. Smithe said, "You Highness, will that be all?"

"Didn't you hear me?" Drakon snapped at him, annoyed. "What else do you want me to say?! I am not an interior designer, not a planner, nor a fashion designer, for Harkenland's sake!"

Drakon got up and angrily stalked out of the room. How he loved to do that - walking out of rooms and making sure no one followed him. Actually, he didn't love to do that, but either the general stupidity or stubbornness of humans force him to do so!

Drakon shoved both his hands into his pockets and walked on, with no idea about where he was going. He just hoped to end up in a secluded corner somewhere with no one to annoy him. But unfortunately, after a few unintentional turns, he looked up to find himself in the King's wing of the castle. Drakon pouted. Why did he have to end up there of all other places?! He turned around, ready to go. But...curiosity won the better of him.

Drakon decided to just check on the king once. Why he ever felt the urge to do so, he didn't know. But maybe...just maybe, the dream he'd had last night was still on his mind, reminding him of what his mother had said just before her death.

"My time has come to go, but I will always be with you. Remember, from now on, you are under your father's care and he is under yours."

Then, her heart had failed to take another breath.

Drakon went to the King's door and stood there quietly. He was trying to hear. But everything was silent behind the door. Not a sign, neither a creak was heard. King Rupert was probably asleep. He opened the door softly, only to find that The King was not asleep, but staring up at the ceiling, still in bed.

He saw Drakon, but his face held no surprise. His voice was calm, as he said, "Come, sit here with me for a little while."

Drakon hesitated but decided to listen to him. He slouched forward and slopped down on the couch beside his bed. His condition had improved. He was still weak, but he no longer coughed endlessly, or spoke brokenly.

However, he said, "My time has arrived, Drake. They are calling me and I can hear it. But I'm not ready to go yet."

Yet... his voice echoed in Drakon's mind. Suddenly, his head was full of anger. Drakon glared at King Rupert. "That's the problem with these old fools," he thought. "They assume all weird things about their health, when it's evident that they're far from unhealthy, let alone about to die!"

Drakon scorned. "Do you wish to gain sympathy from me by talking in such a helpless manner, father? Because if you do, then you do not know me at all, even by now."

King Rupert shook his head, a twisted smile etched on his face. "That was far from my expectations. All I do now is wish that you, my son, will take this." He pointed to the table placed beside his bed, where his crown, richly encrusted with blue gems, lay on a leather cushion. Drakon stared at it in dread. The jewels were nothing but dirt to him, the gold and the glass were but solid poison, and the air and reputation it carried was nothing but burden. He was allergic to the crown. He looked away, disgusted.

"For once in your life, think twice before you reject this," he said gravely, studying Drakon's face. "Think, what situation you will be leaving the people of Harkenland in - king-less, guide-less, on their own, with no one to turn to. War everywhere, invading kingdoms! I can see these. Think well before you decide. Will you do what is right or will you turn your back on Harkenland and disappoint us again?"

"But...I don't deserve it. I'm not worthy, nor capable of being king. I was not born for this life," Drakon said, unsure as to whether he should sound defeated or angry or confused.

"For once, please, give yourself a chance to be good again," King Rupert begged, a single pearl tear sliding down his cheek. Drakon closed his eyes, not able to watch it anymore.

There is always a chance to be good again. But what if he did not want to be good? What if he wished to remain the way he was? What if he did not wish to take the burden of being so-called 'good'? And then he remembered his previous words. If he refused to be king, who would take the job? He had no sibling, no cousin, no other relative. Keeping his eyes closed, Drakon whispered, "I will."

Drakon opened his eyes. His father's were glistening with tears. There was a slight smile and a look of appreciation on his face. Drakon had just made one of the most important decisions of his life. "Bid a servant to call in Thorne Smithe, George Bradson, and Michaels Connor, the other high court ministers. They must bear witness while I crown you myself. I'm afeared I must do it now."

Drakon felt his chest ache as he got up, hoping he would not regret this decision, and rang the bell on the study table. Immediately, a man entered. He dully asked him to call the men and tell them that the King had summoned them to his room.

"Yes, Your Highness," he bowed, leaving. Drakon stood there, motionless. After a few minutes, the three ministers entered the room.

"Take your seats," King Rupert told them, sounding more cheerful. They looked at each other inquiringly, and took seats.

"Now, my dear friends, today is one of the most important days in our lives and the lives of all the people in Harkenland, though they do not know it yet. Today, my son, Drakon Rupert Wulfric Harden has decided to accept his rightful crown and position as the King of Harkenland, heir to me, Rupert Davidson Harden. You, Mr Thorne Briann Smithe, Sir George Bradson and Mr. Michaels Connor, shall bear witness to this moment due to lack of more ceremonial arrangements."

The looks on their faces were priceless, except for Smithe's. He had on an expression that made Drakon feel even worse about this. His face showed trust and confidence in Drakon, and Drakon was afraid he would not be able to do justice to that look. He was scared he would end up disappointing everybody. Again. Including his dead mother.

Slowly, the three men spoke up. "We will bear witness and live to it until we're dead."

"Drakon, come here now," the King instructed. "Drakon Harden, do you promise to look after the people of Harkenland and be fair in all judiciary, executive, political, administrative and law affairs?"

"I do."

"Do you swear never to allow personal matters to hold priority over matters of national and international importance to your country?"

"I do."

"Do you, then, plan to be a just and kind king, not a tyrannous ruler of the people of Harkenland?"

For the final time before his fate was sealed, he said, "I do."

"Then I declare you, Drakon Rupert Wulfric Harden as rightful King of Harkenland."

He stretched out his hands, taking the glowing and sparkling crown. Slowly, he placed it over Drakon's head. His head felt heavy, as if a thousand pounds of weight had just been placed on top of him. He was about to start panicking, for the second time in his life, but...what happened next, stopped him.

King Rupert stretched out his hands suddenly and took hold of Drakon's. He took a huge breath...which, as Drakon realized soon, became his final one. His chest stopped heaving, his hands became limp, his eyes closed. The smile on his face remained intact, as if he was going to heaven. And Drakon realized, he just had.

All the three ministers immediately got up, shocked.

"Call the servants!"

"No, rush to the doctor first."

There was a commotion. Drakon couldn't distinguish one voice from the other anymore. Their words all blurred. He couldn't register them at all. He simply stared at the old man's face. He had known what was coming and had greeted it with open arms as soon as he'd crowned Drakon.

He felt confused and for some reason, the pain in his whole body rose higher by the minute.

Why was he feeling like that?! He had no idea, but he couldn't stop those feelings. He felt terribly weak as well as strong at the same time. He felt suffocated as well as freed. Why?!

Drakon rushed out of that room and locked himself in his own. He stood leaning against the door, motionless, the crown still on his head. This day had come too soon… He had not only gone through his private coronation, but also witnessed the death of his only living relative - his father.

Because as much as Drakon had hated the old man, he'd come to trust him, and he, like everyone else, had left Drakon...