Thread: A new king and his queen (Closed)

Roger La Plagenet sat back in the hard wooden throne, shifting his shoulders from side to side as he tried to find a comfortable position as he half listened to the congratulatory speech. He couldn't remember where the rotund delegate was from, one of the allied countries, but after the six or seventh speech lauding his late father and praising his unexpected ascendancy to the throne, Roger was barely paying attention, his mind wandering as he thought of the turbulent past few weeks. His hand reached up, his fingers tracing along the rim of the heavy iron circlet, the crown of the heir apparent as he wondered at the twist of fate that was raising him to be the next king. He was the youngest son in a late King Richard, his four surviving brothers all better educated, better suited to rule than he was, and he couldn't understand why his father had picked him, had passed over the sons that had been groomed to be king all their lives to select the one member of the family least suited to sit on the throne. King Richard had been a wise man, a good king, but a distant and cold father. Roger had barely knew the man, usually seeing him only at official dinners and state functions, his father's attention always on the state of the nation rather than his studious youngest son. Roger had been studying military history, deciding whether he should write a book about 1st century cavalry tactics when he had received the word of his father's terminal illness. He had expressed his regrets while sending his congratulations to whichever of his elder brothers were chosen to succeed their father, not really thinking too much about it until Jeremiah, the royal chamberlain had come to his chambers, the heavy iron circlet that signaled the next king cradled on a velvet cushion in his hands. Roger had thought Jeremiah mad, that perhaps his old tutor had become confused as he presented the heir apparent's crown to him. He was the youngest son, he had never studied state craft and diplomacy like his brothers, the idea of him ascending to the throne almost ludicrous while his father lived. It was only after several minutes of conversation that Roger finally accepted the situation, reluctantly taking the heavy circlet and placing it on his brow where it would stay until his official coronation. That had been a fortnight ago, two weeks of hectic scrambling, of planning and organizing by the palace staff that had left Roger with plenty of time to ponder the weighty question that Jeremiah had posed to him that evening in his chambers. Now that you will be king, sire, the old man had asked, his eyes red with emotion, his usual chipper attitude subdued by the loss of the king who he had always considered a friend, who shall be your queen? Roger had felt overwhelmed, had avoided the question as he tried to adjust to the sudden changes in his life, being suddenly thrust into a role he felt unprepared for and then being asked to choose his wife was too much for him. He'd spent the first few days avoiding Jeremiah, knowing that the old politician would inquire if he'd made his choice, reminding him that they had a limited time to notify his intended bride before the coronation. Roger knew his choice was important, that his marriage was now a political issue, that he had to choose a woman that would strengthen the throne, would help the nation. He knew his father's marriage to a daughter of a neighboring kingdom had brought them much needed trade, had provided safer borders, but had also led to mutterings amongst the people about being ruled by foreigners. Roger felt that he had to choose someone native to his land, someone that people loved and supported even if they didn't know her that well. He'd made his decision the previous night and was now waiting until this meeting with the delegates of the neighboring lands ended to inform Jeremiah of his choice. Four hours later, Roger was nearly asleep, that he couldn't find a comfortable position in the hard throne was the only thing keeping him awake as he listened to yet another speech filled with praise and reminiscences of his father. He almost missed the end of the speech, startling to attention as he noticed that everyone in the room was looking at him expectantly. Thank you, thank you all very much, Roger smiled as he stood, bowing slightly to the gathered diplomats as they too rose to their feet. Several returned his bow before filing out of the audience chamber. Finally, Roger sighed moving away from the throne to sit in one of the more comfortable, better padded seats in the gallery. I thought that would never end, he confided with a gentle smile as he looked up to see Jeremiah silently approaching. Hopefully, they're not always that boring. Actually I thought that they were rather engaging today, sire, Jeremiah assured the young man with a wry grin, you should listen to Lord Andrea when he starts discussing farm tariffs. Lord preserve me, Roger replied with a short laugh. Sire, have you made your choice? Jeremiah asked delicately after a few seconds had passed, afraid of irritating his former pupil with his incessant question regarding his queen. I have, Jeremiah, Roger assured the old man, watching him carefully as he told him, I choose Gwyndolyn La Plagenet as my bride and queen. Very good, sire, the old Chamberlain nodded, his years of being in politics helping him to mask any shock he felt, his expression not changing at all as the young king to be named his own sister to be his queen. I will have her summoned to the palace. She should be here by the morning, the old man assured the new ruler, bowing slightly before turning and resuming his duties. The old politician wondered briefly how this announcement would be received by the Lords and nobles of the land, many of them secretly hoping that Roger would choose one of their daughters for his bride.