Succession
“Son, the royal line has seen great leaders, and poor ones, and as my time within the sunkissed forests of our people continue, it is my belief that you learn which you are before I turn my own legacy from one of calm uneventfulness, to one of absentminded disaster.” The old king of Solaris looked down at the young man who would become the new king. King Faro was proud of the people his children Aldric and Delhia had become and when his son continued the line he hoped both he and Delhia would be there to guide young Aldric in his journey towards a vibrant future.
Silver laced the beard of the old king, and his ears were already gaining the droop of maturity. Though that was not what had the change of guards before their time. Faro had upon his head a sickness, something that was eating away his mind and his motor control, and though it destroyed him to do so, passing the responsibility to his son like this made the most sense. But still, Aldric and Faro himself needed reminding that Faro could stay around and guide the young king for as long as Faro had left.
King Ryo would not leave her kingdom like her father had. Her gaunt and sickly father had ruled to the end, making poor decision after poor decision in an effort to get the best mages working on keeping him alive as long as possible – when he wasn’t addled and making decisions on a whim.
She looks upon the massive hologram of her father in his prime, the palace around them holding the hall of the line of kings, her own image ready to be placed when she finally leaves the throne. She traces the plant wall behind the hologram, thinking of the joy and life he had brought into her life when she was young, the gentle man with the kind smile, so different from the angry and agitated and pain riddled man he had become.
Riyo, not Ryo the king, remembers sitting on his knee, so so young her ears twitching as he told her the tale of the stone-noodle Miros, and how to be brave in the face of danger, how you must act if you have the possibility to do so. How he had ruffled her hair when he’d told her of the boar attack, and tried to calm her shaking nerves, her small body so in touch with the story she had almost spilled her warm Kefbalga brew, steaming and hot and smelling of home.
Riyo had snuggled into her father then, smelling him, the stale rot that he would become not yet sticking to his warmth, to the pure sunshine that soaked his very being, trying to remember the sound of his breathing his chest and his might in this moment so very hard to recall over the angry screams and harsh reproaches – that she was poisoning him, that she was robbing the light of Morticia from his bones so she could take a throne she never wanted.
Her fist slams the plant wall and pain lances her arm and she’s forced to see the age that has begun to weave itself across her skin. After a life of pure mundanity, King Ryo was determined not to bring the same ruin to the kingdom her father had, with decisions made by selfish choices waiting until rot took her before her grasp on the throne was freed.
She had been regent towards the end, when her father’s council had finally seen the damage he had done and had bundled her up in the manly persona that would form her time as king. Ryo – long lost son of the reigning king, his majesty undoubting and powerful and most importantly – young and fit.
Her great aunt had come to the new majesty, guiding her with jarrah discipline, but trying her hardest to remind Ryo why they guided their people – for the collective good, and to bring disparate towns into prosperity by letting them all lift the load of hard work as one.
Her great aunt deserved a place upon this lineup, staring at the space in the hall where her own position would be, remembering her own achievements, and considering how many chances she had to do better. Or had the possibility to do worse.
Her nephew would be next, one decision kingship had made was the lack of love, mates and consorts and all that because kingself was so afraid that they would be seen as Riyo alone, and not King Ryo with all the responsibilities that entails. And now it was too late and Riyo would either have to die and trust, or do something not done in ages – take the role her great aunt had and guide the next generation.
Her thick curled brown and red hair was a shoulder length bob, lanced with grey, a permanent short in these last decades as Ryo becomes more and more kingself and Riyo disappears from public and private life.
Ryo leaves the hall Riyo enters, majesty striding with confidence and lacking the doubt that plagued Riyo within the hall. His majesty’s bare feet, worn by years, slap on the organic floor, the stoop of Riyo’s back left behind as the ramrod straight back of King Ryo makes its way to the family wing, past rooms containing brothers and sisters, tutor-mates and cousins, courtiers and hangers on.
His majesty presses the side of the membrane, watching the barrier into their nephew’s personal space open, determined to get this idea, this compulsion out before fear and self-doubt from the Riyo of it all comes back to the fore. “My liege.” The nephew bows, as King Ryo looks at the nephew – Acadium, and takes him in. The intelligence can be worked on, the wisdom would come with guidance, but the package of all he appeared to be and the respect he held in himself were great marks on the tally that was considering the kingship’s idea.
“What would you give up, to keep your kingdom safe?” Ryo asks, even as the Riyo of it all says that is unfair to put on one just outside tutoring and not even in an academy as of yet.
Acadium stiffens, looking at his liege and beneath that his oldest aunt and swallows back the fear in his chest. “My dreams, my life, my being.” He can feel the weight of the moment, and has been taught since growing that the royal court was made for keeping the people safe. “Is there a problem I am being asked to solve, my king?”
“Through life, you will find that things are asked of you that you should not have to do, and yet you must, for the good of your community. You might have to give more than is fair, or weather a problem that should have been solved long before it got to you, or sacrifice a goal because someone needs your time more.” Ryo gently lays a hand on Acadium’s shoulder, turning the lad towards a binding open and displaying a picture of his family. “Soon, I will step down, my life and legacy passing off to the next king in line. You will meet and accept an advisor, so that you, the next king may rule with a pure head and a pure heart.”
Ryo looks to see if Acadium is understanding, watching him stare intently at his family image with a set jaw and eyes that hide tears. “And what must I give up to step forwards into this role?”
“Your future, your family for the most part, the belief that there is a public and private you.” Ryo speaks softly but firmly, trying to let Acadium know the stakes before the boy flees at the first sign of trouble. “You have been in line for this since you were first grown, but my mind is slipping back to the past now and then, and my body is growing weaker and you are the oldest of the next generation. So you have been chosen. Do you accept?”
The king watches the lad’s face make a million thoughts, trade them in, and regret the skunt of the deal. But acceptance comes in time, and Ryo relaxes. “I accept, my liege.” Comes the response from somewhere deep, with thick roots that stain this boy’s voice years older as he turns to his king with great and deep respect. “Was it the same with your father?” is the only boy-like question asked.
Ryo smiles, letting Riyo show with all the bitter resolution time can muster. “No, my father did not let go until death, and you will have me.”
“So this has happened before?” Aldric looks to his father, smiling even as he sees the wasting sickness within Faro. His gaze dashes to his sister, whose face is resolute despite Aldric’s own fear.
“Yes, and you’ll have me, big brother.” Delhia says, reaching for the inside of Aldric’s wrist to grip in reassurance. Faro watches through lungs heaving silently for breath, as the story has taken more from him than he would like. There would be advisors, and council, and he will still be there a voice in the ear of his son to keep him on the right track until he finds his feet.
“Is there anything we need to discuss before I retire, my children?” Faro manages, forcing a calm before the coughs will start back within the sanctity of his own room.
“Were they happy?” Aldric says, eyes narrowing with so many questions at his father, at his king, at his subject.
“I’d like to believe they were, for as long as each of them was able – all we can know is that the kingdom survived and flourished while they were a team.”
Silver laced the beard of the old king, and his ears were already gaining the droop of maturity. Though that was not what had the change of guards before their time. Faro had upon his head a sickness, something that was eating away his mind and his motor control, and though it destroyed him to do so, passing the responsibility to his son like this made the most sense. But still, Aldric and Faro himself needed reminding that Faro could stay around and guide the young king for as long as Faro had left.
King Ryo would not leave her kingdom like her father had. Her gaunt and sickly father had ruled to the end, making poor decision after poor decision in an effort to get the best mages working on keeping him alive as long as possible – when he wasn’t addled and making decisions on a whim.
She looks upon the massive hologram of her father in his prime, the palace around them holding the hall of the line of kings, her own image ready to be placed when she finally leaves the throne. She traces the plant wall behind the hologram, thinking of the joy and life he had brought into her life when she was young, the gentle man with the kind smile, so different from the angry and agitated and pain riddled man he had become.
Riyo, not Ryo the king, remembers sitting on his knee, so so young her ears twitching as he told her the tale of the stone-noodle Miros, and how to be brave in the face of danger, how you must act if you have the possibility to do so. How he had ruffled her hair when he’d told her of the boar attack, and tried to calm her shaking nerves, her small body so in touch with the story she had almost spilled her warm Kefbalga brew, steaming and hot and smelling of home.
Riyo had snuggled into her father then, smelling him, the stale rot that he would become not yet sticking to his warmth, to the pure sunshine that soaked his very being, trying to remember the sound of his breathing his chest and his might in this moment so very hard to recall over the angry screams and harsh reproaches – that she was poisoning him, that she was robbing the light of Morticia from his bones so she could take a throne she never wanted.
Her fist slams the plant wall and pain lances her arm and she’s forced to see the age that has begun to weave itself across her skin. After a life of pure mundanity, King Ryo was determined not to bring the same ruin to the kingdom her father had, with decisions made by selfish choices waiting until rot took her before her grasp on the throne was freed.
She had been regent towards the end, when her father’s council had finally seen the damage he had done and had bundled her up in the manly persona that would form her time as king. Ryo – long lost son of the reigning king, his majesty undoubting and powerful and most importantly – young and fit.
Her great aunt had come to the new majesty, guiding her with jarrah discipline, but trying her hardest to remind Ryo why they guided their people – for the collective good, and to bring disparate towns into prosperity by letting them all lift the load of hard work as one.
Her great aunt deserved a place upon this lineup, staring at the space in the hall where her own position would be, remembering her own achievements, and considering how many chances she had to do better. Or had the possibility to do worse.
Her nephew would be next, one decision kingship had made was the lack of love, mates and consorts and all that because kingself was so afraid that they would be seen as Riyo alone, and not King Ryo with all the responsibilities that entails. And now it was too late and Riyo would either have to die and trust, or do something not done in ages – take the role her great aunt had and guide the next generation.
Her thick curled brown and red hair was a shoulder length bob, lanced with grey, a permanent short in these last decades as Ryo becomes more and more kingself and Riyo disappears from public and private life.
Ryo leaves the hall Riyo enters, majesty striding with confidence and lacking the doubt that plagued Riyo within the hall. His majesty’s bare feet, worn by years, slap on the organic floor, the stoop of Riyo’s back left behind as the ramrod straight back of King Ryo makes its way to the family wing, past rooms containing brothers and sisters, tutor-mates and cousins, courtiers and hangers on.
His majesty presses the side of the membrane, watching the barrier into their nephew’s personal space open, determined to get this idea, this compulsion out before fear and self-doubt from the Riyo of it all comes back to the fore. “My liege.” The nephew bows, as King Ryo looks at the nephew – Acadium, and takes him in. The intelligence can be worked on, the wisdom would come with guidance, but the package of all he appeared to be and the respect he held in himself were great marks on the tally that was considering the kingship’s idea.
“What would you give up, to keep your kingdom safe?” Ryo asks, even as the Riyo of it all says that is unfair to put on one just outside tutoring and not even in an academy as of yet.
Acadium stiffens, looking at his liege and beneath that his oldest aunt and swallows back the fear in his chest. “My dreams, my life, my being.” He can feel the weight of the moment, and has been taught since growing that the royal court was made for keeping the people safe. “Is there a problem I am being asked to solve, my king?”
“Through life, you will find that things are asked of you that you should not have to do, and yet you must, for the good of your community. You might have to give more than is fair, or weather a problem that should have been solved long before it got to you, or sacrifice a goal because someone needs your time more.” Ryo gently lays a hand on Acadium’s shoulder, turning the lad towards a binding open and displaying a picture of his family. “Soon, I will step down, my life and legacy passing off to the next king in line. You will meet and accept an advisor, so that you, the next king may rule with a pure head and a pure heart.”
Ryo looks to see if Acadium is understanding, watching him stare intently at his family image with a set jaw and eyes that hide tears. “And what must I give up to step forwards into this role?”
“Your future, your family for the most part, the belief that there is a public and private you.” Ryo speaks softly but firmly, trying to let Acadium know the stakes before the boy flees at the first sign of trouble. “You have been in line for this since you were first grown, but my mind is slipping back to the past now and then, and my body is growing weaker and you are the oldest of the next generation. So you have been chosen. Do you accept?”
The king watches the lad’s face make a million thoughts, trade them in, and regret the skunt of the deal. But acceptance comes in time, and Ryo relaxes. “I accept, my liege.” Comes the response from somewhere deep, with thick roots that stain this boy’s voice years older as he turns to his king with great and deep respect. “Was it the same with your father?” is the only boy-like question asked.
Ryo smiles, letting Riyo show with all the bitter resolution time can muster. “No, my father did not let go until death, and you will have me.”
“So this has happened before?” Aldric looks to his father, smiling even as he sees the wasting sickness within Faro. His gaze dashes to his sister, whose face is resolute despite Aldric’s own fear.
“Yes, and you’ll have me, big brother.” Delhia says, reaching for the inside of Aldric’s wrist to grip in reassurance. Faro watches through lungs heaving silently for breath, as the story has taken more from him than he would like. There would be advisors, and council, and he will still be there a voice in the ear of his son to keep him on the right track until he finds his feet.
“Is there anything we need to discuss before I retire, my children?” Faro manages, forcing a calm before the coughs will start back within the sanctity of his own room.
“Were they happy?” Aldric says, eyes narrowing with so many questions at his father, at his king, at his subject.
“I’d like to believe they were, for as long as each of them was able – all we can know is that the kingdom survived and flourished while they were a team.”
Thank you for reading, feel free to give feedback.
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Author's Notes
This and King Ryo were originally the ideas for Tydal's Twice Told challenge, but then Novelember happened and I was afraid I'd not complete this before that and so it gets waterlogged and you lot get this. Hope you enjoy.