*Splash*
The aide ran, struggling to open the umbrella, fumbling with the handle. Mud splashed on his shoes. "Your Highness..."
The rain had just started. The aide stood behind the young man, holding an umbrella over his head. The young man's black clothes reminded everyone they were standing in a cemetery.
His blank blue eyes stared at the front. Laborers were pouring mud in the pit. A priest stood not far off, chanting spells.
The wind blew, making those present shiver and hug their coats tighter for warmth. Yet the young man's eyes didn't move from the pit. His fingers twitched, nails still dirty with remnants of soil he had to throw in the pit over his.... mother's coffin. The queen of the Luxuria kingdom.
The guests buzzed with gossip and uncertainty. Should they go forward or stay back?
Finally, someone broke the chain of uncertainty. The prime minister, a man in his 50s, moved. After presenting the flowers to the queen, he stood in front of the young man. "Your Highness...."
The prime minister held the young man by his shoulders, forcing him to finally look him in the eye. He wasn't the prime minister today, but a mere godfather, consoling his godson. His eyes were wet from grief. "I share your sorrow; my loyalty is with you in this dark hour."
The prime minister clasped the youth's cold hand, whispering 'I am with you'. His hands warmed up the youth. The prince's light blue eyes flickered. His lips were pale, almost bloodless from the rain and cold wind.
"Thank you.... for being here." Those were the first words he had spoken since the funeral had been announced. The prime minister bowed lightly, finally assured that the crown prince, Celyn Excelentus, could handle the rest of the guests.
"I will wait for you, your highness." He bowed and walked to the side. The moment he stepped aside, the other nobles took the opportunity to greet the crown prince. Followed by confessions of loyalty, grief and stiff condolences.
On the outside, they were sad for the death of the queen. Inside, they were curious about the delayed funeral.
'Where's the king? Did he not attend?'
'Why did they delay the funeral for two months?'
'I heard she died from poisoning.'
'He let them dismember her.'
'Isn't that the reason they kept the coffin closed?'
'Someone from the ministry told me, he imprisoned people on mere suspicion.'
The aide accepted the flowers from the nobles that were meant for the prince. Bowing down every time. Two faced. Every single person that stood in front of him was two faced.
Celyn didn't react to the gossip on the surface or words that could be heard from the crowd, or those empty words of condolence. Not even when his own father failed to show up on his mother's funeral.
Why would he react? That's not what people expected of him. The Heir.
"I am glad you came." Celyn accepted the condolences from the last guest. Finally, free of the shackles of etiquette and duty.
He walked closer to the pit, not worrying about rain, and threw a bouquet of lilies, bowing down. His eyes were wet. His hair covered his face as he bowed, hiding his expression.
"I have failed you, Mother."
I won't again.
Jaw tensed, his head raised. His mother's murderer was still out there.