Young Writers Society

997 words for the Last Man Standing contest

(A/N - happening about a day before the end of the last post. Part one of three.)

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Iluan pushed himself up on his toes, his hands gripping the wooden armrest of the chair. Looking over it, he could lay his eyes on the crown, shining under the light of many candles, on the seat waiting for its owner.

"It's pretty."

"I know." Erion grinned, standing on the other side and looking down on his little brother. "And it will be mine."

The younger boy's eyes widened slightly. "What will you do with it? It's too big for you to wear, and looks so heavy."

He reached over the armrest to touch it, but Erion's hand slapped his out of the way before his fingers could touch the polished gold.

"Don't touch it," the older boy snapped, taking the crown and observing it from all sides. "Father will get mad at you."

"But you're touching it too."

"That's different." Erion rolled his eyes at his little brother's ignorance. "I'm the heir. I will be wearing it once."

Iluan smiled at the memory as he watched his brother sink to his knee before the Regent. Erion's eyes seemed dark, his face serious, as the crown touched his head. It rested upon his curls like crafter for it, as polished and perfect as Iluan remembered it from their childhood.

The Ceremonial Hall has changed since, although it kept its big windows and tall ceilings, and a dome above the Chair - Iluan remembered the day it was changed, as its walls got covered in tapestries and flags, and the architects expanded it enough to fit all the nobles who silently stood in it now. Yet the feeling stayed the same, and still turned his lips dry and almost made him shiver. Under the paintings on the ceilings, old paintings whom no one has touched ever since the palace was built - before it was even the royal palace, and the Altarians still reigned over the territory of Naavia - Iluan always felt small, as if observed by someone living high above.

"And you will look up to the stars, and the gods shall smile back at you."

The Regent's words marked the ending of the ceremony as Erion swore to serve his people and protect the Realm, and he slowly woke up again. There was no sound to be heard, apart from his footsteps on the stone floor, as he walked up to the Chair. Without a moment of hesitation, gently stroking the old wood carved in symbols once believed to bring prosperity and health, he sat down and looked over the people gathered, before inclining his head slightly as in a silent bow.

A prince walked into this hall, Iluan thought to himself, a king will walk out of it.

He joined the applause and smiled as he caught a quick glimpse of his brother's eyes, before the crowd now allowed to approach hurried to bow to their new king, hiding him from Iluan's view. He could see Ethian sliding from his place next to a wall, like a shadow positioning himself next to the king and watching every move of the nobles, and Sandor, Devin and Hedril glancing at each other from different sides of the room, all three with fingers on barely an inch from the hilts of their swords. Ananna, Erion's little daughter, was chirping some song from the queen's lap, not far from her father, attracting a group of nobles herself. Iluan smiled at her too, but she seemed too busy observing feathers on some lord's hat to notice her uncle's endeavors.

"You look like you're looking for a chance to disappear."

He turned with a start, suppressing a sigh of relief at the sight of his sister. Lenore had a way of sneaking up to him - something she was more than fond of as a child. He smirked. "Is it that obvious?"

She didn't quite make an expression, shrugging slightly and keeping her eyes on the colourful nobility surrounding their brother, but her eyebrow arched a little bit. "The door on the northern side are the least guarded."

Iluan turned in said direction. His eyes fell on a young guard seemingly troubled by sickness of some sort, who kept clutching at his stomach and trying to act professionally. Iluan shook his head slightly, turning back to Lenore.

"I'm not looking for a way to disappear. I'll be leaving for Drakefort with the first light, I can as well pretend I belong here until then."

Lenore shrugged, staying silent for a while, as they both observed the crowd moving to let a tall lady in nearly rainbow-coloured dress pass.

"Will you ask Erion's blessing for the wedding now?" Lenore asked, and Iluan sighed.

"No, I won't." He hesitated. "If I do, I know I won't get it, so why bother?" He shook his head, his expression suddenly turning curious. "What do you think about it?"

"Nothing," Lenore muttered, then continuing in a clearer voice. "Nothing that should matter, in any case. I think you should've sent her to her home four years ago, but it's too late for that now." She met his eyes. "I understand and agree that you're not marrying the Empire, but don't forget who her father is."

With that she left him, simply turning around as if he hasn't opened his mouth to reply. He watched her leave for a while, his eyes on her back as answered a call of some lord or another and joined him in a conversation. Then he allowed himself a silent sigh and shook his head, letting his thoughts flee to his fiancée. He had sent a messenger a few days earlier, closer to when his father died, and he was fairly sure she missed him by now at least as much as he missed her.

I'll be home soon, he promised to himself, shoving the doubts away and imagining her expression as if she could hear him. I'll travel quickly and return safely, and then nothing will be standing in our way anymore.

*