"Blasius, you have shown our Kingdom so much bravery, taking on the King as you did. You were the one to defeat him, so you must take the crown."
The main entrance to the castle was cleared out, or as much as it could be in the small time that had passed since Blasius slit the King's throat. Or former King, I should say, as Blasius was now being presented with the crown, fresh off of deceased Dorian Taeman's head. As gross as that was, it was also exciting.
The King's death certainly couldn't replace all of the trauma he instilled in people or the pain he made them feel, but if someone like Blasius was crowned, at least it could mean things like that wouldn't happen again. The non-human races would have a chance at peace, at reconciliation, at safety.
Blasius allowed one of the human women, one of the King's servants, to place the crown on his head, but doesn't look too thrilled to be presented with it.
"This is unwarranted, honestly," he spoke as she stepped away. The hall was packed with everyone who had fought with us, including the ones who had been released from the dungeon. "I may have been the one to challenge the King, but this wasn't just my idea. This wouldn't have happened without the help of everyone that fought alongside me. But most importantly, without Amicia, this would all still be a fantasy planted in my mind."
I shook my head as he looked at me. As if I had any part in it. Without my friends, I'd still be in the castle, surely nowhere near even thinking about overthrowing the King. I had been a pathetic mess the whole way, bolstered by the confidence of my newfound friends.
"With the help of her clairvoyancy we were able to escape the castle. With her family, we rallied people to fight with us. With their connections, we acquired all of necessary weapons and training. Everything I've been able to do has revolved around her." Blasius paused, seeming to be in thought, then he smirked. "And I'm not just saying this because she's my mate. Or because I love her. But because she deserves to be up here even more than I do."
I stood still, not allowing his gaze to rope me in. His stare already felt like ghostly tendrils, creeping around my body and dragging me toward the stairs. But I didn't want this. I didn't deserve this. Everything we had been able to achieve had been done through a gateway that I was able to provide, but I didn't have the strength or planning ability or courage that were the pivotal parts of our success.
"Let the people congratulate you, Amice," my mother encouraged.
I huffed, but allowed her to push me forward. From there, I closed the distance between Blasius and I myself.
When I reached him, he plucked the crown from his head and placed it on my own. It was heavier than I expected, but with all of the ruby and sapphire jewels encrusted on the gold headpiece, the weight was definitely understandable. I reached up to center it as it started to fall forward. As Blasius's smile grew wider, my cheeks started heating up. This felt embarrassing.
"Thanks, but without you, Silva, and Menas I would have never had the courage. There were times that I didn't even want to go through with it, but when you guys were around things seemed so much more achievable," I spoke quietly, suddenly hyperaware of the crowd in front of me. "I don't want this, though. I think you should have it. Besides, what's mine is yours, and what's yours is mine." I waved my hand, motioning to the covered bite mark etched into my pale skin.
"What's mine is yours, and what's yours is mine," he mimicked, a wide smile creeping onto his lips.
"Oh, wait, wait, wait," the woman who crowned Blasius ran back out to us. "King Taelman may not have had a Queen, but we still had this lying around."
She replaced my crown and stepped back once again. This one was much more dainty, but it was still made out of gold though, and had dozens of glossy white pears and rhinestones. The tiara fit my head nicely, resting right above my forehead.
When I turn to Blasius, the other crown once again resting atop his tangled, dark brown hair, he stared back at me. He places a hand on my chin, tilted my head to face him better, admiring my new look. I patted down my milky white hair self-consciously, trying to rid it of the dampness from sweat and the knots that had gathered themselves.
"It suits you," he whispered.
"Messy hair?"
"The crown, my Queen," he chuckled.
"O-oh."
The hand still on my chin raised itself more and Blasius leaned himself down, lips meeting mine. Despite the aggression of the situation just minutes ago in the throne chamber, the way his lips moved against mine was gentle. One of my hands wound itself within his hair below the crown while the other pressed against his chest, not even bothered by the dampness from the blood soaked into it.
I physically flinched when I heard the first clap, and then more followed, along with shouts and whistles. I pulled back instantly, removing my hands from Blasius and turning to survey the enthusiastic crowd. It spread a warmth throughout my chest that momentarily masked the dull ache that sat there before. But when I reflected on everything that had happen today, everything that had happened in the past six months, the smile quickly dissipated from my lips.
Silva. I wished she could've seen this.
I grabbed Blasius's hand. Everyone in the crowd seemed so content, so happy. There was no going back now, this would be our new lives.