Post by devilinthedetails on Jul 19, 2018 0:50:54 GMT 10
Title: Only King for a Day
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: King for a Day
Summary: Roald is only king for a day, and Jon doesn't know how hard it is to rule even if only for a day. Set after Roger's return from the dead.
Only King for a Day
“Roger of Conte”–Roald didn’t include his nephew’s formal title even if it had been reinstated upon Roger’s death (and who could have foreseen that decision would haunt Roald worse than any restless spirit?) or any form of endearment that might have emphasized a familial relationship he felt had been severed the moment Roger had been proved guilty of harming his sweet Lianne–“poses a problem.”
He glanced around his council chamber in the vain hope that one of the men present might propose a straightforward solution to the crisis that he had somehow overlooked. Unsurprisingly, that didn’t happen. He had the overwhelming urge to throw back his head and howl at the arched dome of the council chamber’s ceiling as a wolf would at the moon, but cognizant of how that would impugn royal dignity by making him seem a raving lunatic, he pinched the bridge of his nose instead as he went on, “I restored his titles and holdings to him after his death, and now he’s back from the dead.”
“Your Majesty will remember that I did advise against reinstating his titles upon his death.” Duke Gareth’s thin, dry voice was barely audible over the November winds hammering against the rattling windowpanes. Roald did indeed recall that his brother-in-law had been adamant in advocating that Roger’s titles remained stripped from him and he be buried, unmourned, in an unmarked traitor’s grave rather than laid to rest in state in the Conte crypts. Still, Roald had hoped for more loyalty from his Prime Minister if not from his brother-in-law in the midst of this current catastrophe gripping the realm.
“I do.” Roald inclined his head but spoke with a defensive snap even as he shivered with a chill he couldn’t entirely blame on the autumnal draft forcing its way through the windows. “You wanted to set a stern example against treason, but I thought it would be wiser to bury the horrible past. How could I know that the dead would refuse to stay dead? Not even you would claim to foresee such an unnatural, impossible working of magic.”
“I wouldn’t make such a claim.” Only Duke Gareth could concede a point without sounding as if he had yielded an inch. “I merely observe that the present situation might be less complicated if Your Majesty had heeded my counsel.”
“Everything is less complicated with hindsight.” Roald longed to hide his head in his hands forever and compromised by resting his chin in the heel of his palms, a suitably sober posture that he hoped would conceal the fact that he had no notion of how to proceed in managing the danger Roger posed to his family and country. “If Your Grace is amenable, we might focus less of this meeting on recriminations and more on solutions.”
“The law stipulates that a traitor’s lands and titles be taken from him and returned to the Crown, Your Majesty.” Duke Gareth’s varicose hands–testimony to the age that was starting to show more on his features with every day that Lianne withered away–curled around his cane like claws. “Such a law could be cited in confiscating Roger’s lands and revoking his titles. None of the nobility is likely to object to this application of the law.”
A chorus of nods and murmured agreement circled the nobles around the council table, but Roald shook his head, tugging at his beard in a manner he prayed appeared serious rather than anxious, “Roger’s lands and titles were already stripped from him upon his death. That’s why I had to restore them to him. He has committed no treason since his death and resurrection. To deny him his rank and holdings now would be to punish him twice for the same offense, something the law clearly forbids.”
He glanced to his right–at his only son–and wished he hadn’t. There was an expression of mingled sorrow and anger in Jon’s eyes, as if Jon thought the solution and the situation were simple. Roald remembered when he had been so eager to take control of the kingdom and correct the excesses of his own father. He had believed that it would be so easy to bring justice and peace to his people, but every day had proved to be a struggle, and he was weary from the ceaseless fight that was ruling. Jon, he sensed in his bones, would be a good king, but that would be anything but easy. Soon, he knew, his son would learn that lesson the hard way, but Roald wouldn’t be around to watch him learn it or soften the blow with which it was learned. Such were the burdens of kingship and its inheritance. It would be a relief for Roald to forsake his crown, which with its gold and gems was now too heavy for Roald, if it didn’t mean the weight would fall upon his beloved son...
Thinking of sons replacing their fading fathers in an eternal stream of succession, Roald noticed Gary, seated beside his own father, leaning toward Duke Gareth, speaking in a vehement undertone accompanied by animated gestures at the pile of parchment before him. In the months since Duke Gareth had started to shrink along with his sister, Gary had quietly assumed more of his father’s governmental duties. Although he maintained the pretense that he just lugged heaps of parchment about so his father could better navigate the palace with his cane, Roald had the distinct impression that an ever increasing number of state decisions were being made by the younger Naxen. He didn’t know whether that notion reassured or disconcerted him. All he knew was that it was the truth regardless of his feelings about it.
Weary of artifice, Roald remarked, wanting to believe but not daring to hope that his clever nephew might have found a solution to the problem his other nephew presented, “If you’ve suggestions on how we might proceed regarding Roger, you may feel free to share them with the whole room, Sir Gareth. At the moment, we’re all open to any ideas on how to resolve this trouble.”
“Your Majesty is right in noting that there isn’t a precedent for a traitor returning from the dead.” There was a cunning in Gary’s muddy brown gaze that caused Roald to wonder if Roger might be the less devious of his nephews after all. “Since there is no precedent, Your Majesty is legally at liberty to establish it by removing all of Roger’s lands and titles.”
What Gary proposed was a tempting path to tread, but Roald feared that it was a weak justification, wiggling words that would send him sliding down the slippery slope to tyranny, so he shook his head after careful consideration. “No, Sir Gareth. I will not punish a man for an offense for which he has already paid the penalty, and I will not seize a noble’s lands and titles unless there is a precedent that allows me to do so. Roger’s rank and holdings will remain restored to him unless it can be proven that he is guilty of any new treason.”
He clapped his hands to close the council meeting, which was fortunate since the sharp sounds of his palms striking each other drowned out his son’s protest so that only Roald could hear it when Jon demanded tersely, “It’s your judgment, Father, that we should wait until a known enemy tries to kill us again before we take action to defend ourselves?”
“It’s my judgement that we not stray beyond the confines of the law and precedent.” Roald sighed as the chamber echoed with scraping chairs and nobles muttering among themselves as they collected their documents before moving toward the doorway. “A monarch who isn’t subject to his own laws is a tyrant, Jon, and I’m determined to never be a tyrant.”
“There is a space between being so benevolent as to let treason go unpunished and tyranny.” Jon’s jaw clenched so tightly Roald could imagine it cracking. “I only ask why you don’t try to fill that place when an excess of mercy is what got us in this mess.”
“You think that your uncle and Gary are right?” Roald had to confirm what he had suspected since he had seen the disappointed anger in Jon’s eyes earlier. Feeling betrayed and abandoned by all the family that remained to him, his gaze flickered fleetingly over to the two Naxens to whom he referred who were engaged in a hushed, fervent exchange of whispers that might have looked conspiratorial if their loyalty to the Crown hadn’t been unimpeachable. As he watched the Naxen father and son depart the council chamber, it occurred to Roald that–despite how he doted on his son and how his son charmed him–that where a young Gary had constantly defied and disagreed with his father whenever the flimsiest opportunity arose, the two Naxens were now more united in purpose and understanding than he and Jon would ever be. The two Naxens were more alike than they seemed on the surface, but the same could never be said of Jon and him. That saddened but somehow didn’t shock Roald.
“Uncle is often right as is Gary though I prefer not to boost his ego by telling him so.” Jon’s chin lifted. “I would certainly trust their counsel more than I would Roger’s loyalty or good behavior, Father.”
“You imagine that if you could be king for a day, you could right all the wrongs in the country.” Roald squeezed his son’s shoulder with a hand fatigued from reigning too long through too much treachery and heavy with the royal ring that would one day be Jon’s bitter inheritance. “You forget that I’m only king for a day and then, when you rule, you will see how cursed hard it can be to be king even for a day.”
He removed his hand from Jon’s shoulder and left the chamber before a wrong-footed Jon could recover enough to assure him that he didn’t await Roald’s death with bated breath, because he needed to be alone after the turmoil of the council meeting and his confrontation with his son.
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: King for a Day
Summary: Roald is only king for a day, and Jon doesn't know how hard it is to rule even if only for a day. Set after Roger's return from the dead.
Only King for a Day
“Roger of Conte”–Roald didn’t include his nephew’s formal title even if it had been reinstated upon Roger’s death (and who could have foreseen that decision would haunt Roald worse than any restless spirit?) or any form of endearment that might have emphasized a familial relationship he felt had been severed the moment Roger had been proved guilty of harming his sweet Lianne–“poses a problem.”
He glanced around his council chamber in the vain hope that one of the men present might propose a straightforward solution to the crisis that he had somehow overlooked. Unsurprisingly, that didn’t happen. He had the overwhelming urge to throw back his head and howl at the arched dome of the council chamber’s ceiling as a wolf would at the moon, but cognizant of how that would impugn royal dignity by making him seem a raving lunatic, he pinched the bridge of his nose instead as he went on, “I restored his titles and holdings to him after his death, and now he’s back from the dead.”
“Your Majesty will remember that I did advise against reinstating his titles upon his death.” Duke Gareth’s thin, dry voice was barely audible over the November winds hammering against the rattling windowpanes. Roald did indeed recall that his brother-in-law had been adamant in advocating that Roger’s titles remained stripped from him and he be buried, unmourned, in an unmarked traitor’s grave rather than laid to rest in state in the Conte crypts. Still, Roald had hoped for more loyalty from his Prime Minister if not from his brother-in-law in the midst of this current catastrophe gripping the realm.
“I do.” Roald inclined his head but spoke with a defensive snap even as he shivered with a chill he couldn’t entirely blame on the autumnal draft forcing its way through the windows. “You wanted to set a stern example against treason, but I thought it would be wiser to bury the horrible past. How could I know that the dead would refuse to stay dead? Not even you would claim to foresee such an unnatural, impossible working of magic.”
“I wouldn’t make such a claim.” Only Duke Gareth could concede a point without sounding as if he had yielded an inch. “I merely observe that the present situation might be less complicated if Your Majesty had heeded my counsel.”
“Everything is less complicated with hindsight.” Roald longed to hide his head in his hands forever and compromised by resting his chin in the heel of his palms, a suitably sober posture that he hoped would conceal the fact that he had no notion of how to proceed in managing the danger Roger posed to his family and country. “If Your Grace is amenable, we might focus less of this meeting on recriminations and more on solutions.”
“The law stipulates that a traitor’s lands and titles be taken from him and returned to the Crown, Your Majesty.” Duke Gareth’s varicose hands–testimony to the age that was starting to show more on his features with every day that Lianne withered away–curled around his cane like claws. “Such a law could be cited in confiscating Roger’s lands and revoking his titles. None of the nobility is likely to object to this application of the law.”
A chorus of nods and murmured agreement circled the nobles around the council table, but Roald shook his head, tugging at his beard in a manner he prayed appeared serious rather than anxious, “Roger’s lands and titles were already stripped from him upon his death. That’s why I had to restore them to him. He has committed no treason since his death and resurrection. To deny him his rank and holdings now would be to punish him twice for the same offense, something the law clearly forbids.”
He glanced to his right–at his only son–and wished he hadn’t. There was an expression of mingled sorrow and anger in Jon’s eyes, as if Jon thought the solution and the situation were simple. Roald remembered when he had been so eager to take control of the kingdom and correct the excesses of his own father. He had believed that it would be so easy to bring justice and peace to his people, but every day had proved to be a struggle, and he was weary from the ceaseless fight that was ruling. Jon, he sensed in his bones, would be a good king, but that would be anything but easy. Soon, he knew, his son would learn that lesson the hard way, but Roald wouldn’t be around to watch him learn it or soften the blow with which it was learned. Such were the burdens of kingship and its inheritance. It would be a relief for Roald to forsake his crown, which with its gold and gems was now too heavy for Roald, if it didn’t mean the weight would fall upon his beloved son...
Thinking of sons replacing their fading fathers in an eternal stream of succession, Roald noticed Gary, seated beside his own father, leaning toward Duke Gareth, speaking in a vehement undertone accompanied by animated gestures at the pile of parchment before him. In the months since Duke Gareth had started to shrink along with his sister, Gary had quietly assumed more of his father’s governmental duties. Although he maintained the pretense that he just lugged heaps of parchment about so his father could better navigate the palace with his cane, Roald had the distinct impression that an ever increasing number of state decisions were being made by the younger Naxen. He didn’t know whether that notion reassured or disconcerted him. All he knew was that it was the truth regardless of his feelings about it.
Weary of artifice, Roald remarked, wanting to believe but not daring to hope that his clever nephew might have found a solution to the problem his other nephew presented, “If you’ve suggestions on how we might proceed regarding Roger, you may feel free to share them with the whole room, Sir Gareth. At the moment, we’re all open to any ideas on how to resolve this trouble.”
“Your Majesty is right in noting that there isn’t a precedent for a traitor returning from the dead.” There was a cunning in Gary’s muddy brown gaze that caused Roald to wonder if Roger might be the less devious of his nephews after all. “Since there is no precedent, Your Majesty is legally at liberty to establish it by removing all of Roger’s lands and titles.”
What Gary proposed was a tempting path to tread, but Roald feared that it was a weak justification, wiggling words that would send him sliding down the slippery slope to tyranny, so he shook his head after careful consideration. “No, Sir Gareth. I will not punish a man for an offense for which he has already paid the penalty, and I will not seize a noble’s lands and titles unless there is a precedent that allows me to do so. Roger’s rank and holdings will remain restored to him unless it can be proven that he is guilty of any new treason.”
He clapped his hands to close the council meeting, which was fortunate since the sharp sounds of his palms striking each other drowned out his son’s protest so that only Roald could hear it when Jon demanded tersely, “It’s your judgment, Father, that we should wait until a known enemy tries to kill us again before we take action to defend ourselves?”
“It’s my judgement that we not stray beyond the confines of the law and precedent.” Roald sighed as the chamber echoed with scraping chairs and nobles muttering among themselves as they collected their documents before moving toward the doorway. “A monarch who isn’t subject to his own laws is a tyrant, Jon, and I’m determined to never be a tyrant.”
“There is a space between being so benevolent as to let treason go unpunished and tyranny.” Jon’s jaw clenched so tightly Roald could imagine it cracking. “I only ask why you don’t try to fill that place when an excess of mercy is what got us in this mess.”
“You think that your uncle and Gary are right?” Roald had to confirm what he had suspected since he had seen the disappointed anger in Jon’s eyes earlier. Feeling betrayed and abandoned by all the family that remained to him, his gaze flickered fleetingly over to the two Naxens to whom he referred who were engaged in a hushed, fervent exchange of whispers that might have looked conspiratorial if their loyalty to the Crown hadn’t been unimpeachable. As he watched the Naxen father and son depart the council chamber, it occurred to Roald that–despite how he doted on his son and how his son charmed him–that where a young Gary had constantly defied and disagreed with his father whenever the flimsiest opportunity arose, the two Naxens were now more united in purpose and understanding than he and Jon would ever be. The two Naxens were more alike than they seemed on the surface, but the same could never be said of Jon and him. That saddened but somehow didn’t shock Roald.
“Uncle is often right as is Gary though I prefer not to boost his ego by telling him so.” Jon’s chin lifted. “I would certainly trust their counsel more than I would Roger’s loyalty or good behavior, Father.”
“You imagine that if you could be king for a day, you could right all the wrongs in the country.” Roald squeezed his son’s shoulder with a hand fatigued from reigning too long through too much treachery and heavy with the royal ring that would one day be Jon’s bitter inheritance. “You forget that I’m only king for a day and then, when you rule, you will see how cursed hard it can be to be king even for a day.”
He removed his hand from Jon’s shoulder and left the chamber before a wrong-footed Jon could recover enough to assure him that he didn’t await Roald’s death with bated breath, because he needed to be alone after the turmoil of the council meeting and his confrontation with his son.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!