Through Ages of Weary Fulfillment: Ch. 12

Event Planning

Notes:

Hopefully there won't be many more dry chapters...I think there's some Theeli fluff in Ch. 13, if that helps at all? I'm sorry; I know things are moving slowly. Actually, a good number of these chapters wouldn't have existed but my brain decided I needed to go and fill in the story because I skipped too many important events...

The agonizing slowness will stop eventually. Chapter 15 is when the actual action-oriented plot of the story picks up :)

*****

Their trip back to Castle Rysen was shaded and draining. It was not long before Janner felt himself leaning against Artham, and though it was not his preference, it was better than collapsing.

They nearly made it out of the forest and so close to Castle Rysen without having interaction with another human being, when an auburn-haired girl (about Kal’s age) seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“Hello,” she said pleasantly. “I sort of got lost in here…I was walking through the meadow looking for flowers, and then this forest appeared out of nowhere! Do either of you know the way back to where everyone else is?”

“We're actually going that way right now,” Janner replied with a smile. Miraculously, it seemed as though this girl had no idea who he was. If at all physically possible, he wanted to keep it that way for at least a few minutes. 

Even though he knew he would regret it later, he moved away from Artham’s support and was very glad when his uncle did not protest in any way.

Any conversation had would be shallow, but Janner desperately wanted shallow, normal conversation that had nothing heartbreaking in it. “So,” he began. “What do you think of Anniera?” He heard Artham snort, as if to say, seriously? That's all you can come up with? but chose to ignore it. 

“Well, the land itself is beautiful,” she said quickly. “But the currently non-existent towns aren’t much to speak of. I'm sure they'll look amazing eventually, but as of right now, it's clear Castle Rysen was the crown jewel in its day, since it's the only thing still partially standing.”

Janner nodded. “I suppose some might have called it the crown jewel. The people, though, were the true jewels in the crown, and the Maker’s love and will the gold of it.” He could feel the strain the extra breath needed to speak had put on his already tired body and took note so it (hopefully) wouldn't happen again.

The girl stared at him, her mouth parted in wonder. “Why, that's beautiful,” she murmured. 

“Indeed,” Artham muttered, a hint of what sounded like frustration in his tone. “I really need to find a pen and paper, because at the moment I want nothing more than to turn that metaphor into a poem.”

Janner cracked a smile at that and did his best to hold in a sigh of relief when he saw the trees thinning ahead, revealing openness that eventually led to the ad hoc Rysentown and the castle. 

“We're nearing the edge,” he said breathlessly, pointing ahead and hoping neither she nor Artham would see the way his arm shook. Then something would be said, likely his name, and the girl would know and then everything would be uncomfortable and she would feel terrible and awkward and so would he. That was not what he wanted.

“Oh, wonderful!” The girl exclaimed. “If you don't mind, I'll run ahead. My…well, the kind couple who took me in are probably expecting me so I should go. It was lovely meeting you! My name’s Galya, by the way!” She added as she ran off, skipping with delight.

As he fell back to lean against Artham again, Janner couldn't help but wish he could enjoy the same gaiety as she did. It seemed like such a wonderful thing. A wonderful thing that was completely out of reach and impossible to relish.

*****

He wasn't hungry at lunch but forced himself to eat anyway, more for others’ sake than his own. Exhaustion had swept in full force, and Janner was too tired to do much other than focus on the food before him (cheesy chowder; Nia really was trying to get him to eat something).

That was the reason why he was stunned and frankly horrified when he tuned into the conversation at Artham's  words, “Don't forget the coronation.”

The words had made his blood run cold. Janner had read enough novels about royalty that he knew exactly what his uncle spoke of. Crowning him. As King of Anniera. It wasn't right. He wasn't right.

“Wait,” he forced his frantic mind to squeeze out of his mouth into some semblance of something that made sense. “Didn’t we already do that? Just the other day?”

Artham looked at him sheepishly. “Well…yes and no. We made the people aware you are King and you accepted that in front of them, but there is an actual ceremony that must take place. A passing of the throne, if you will. In this case, your mother will pass it on to you.”

“Of course, it’s not only passing on the Throne,” Arundelle added. “It’s a passing on of all the Jewels’ roles, that of Throne Warden, High King or Queen, and Song Master or Maiden.”

“But why do we have to do it?” Janner pressed, beginning to feel a bit frustrated. “Tradition” was not a good enough answer for him. “Uncle Artham, you’re already Throne Warden, there wasn’t a Song Maiden or Master before Leeli and I…I already agreed to do it.”

Nia eyed him seriously. “You, Leeli, and Artham have to do it because it has taken place during every transition of the crown in Annieran history. How else can we rebuild Anniera except by building on that which is tried and true?”

Janner felt his jaw clench and looked down at his hands pressed in his lap. He didn’t want to do it because he had already done it once. He didn’t want to do it because it was like usurping Kalmar again. He didn’t want to do it because he wasn’t even truly meant to be King, rather, Leeli was meant to be Queen. He didn’t want to do it because he was already suffocating. 

Artham cleared his throat and Janner glanced up. By the look in his uncle’s eyes, it appeared that an attempt at bringing levity to the situation was about to ensue. “Of course, it can’t really be as it always has been, since we seem to have misplaced the traditional scepter and the crown.”

Nia rolled her eyes while Arundelle and Sara cracked a smile. Janner did his best not to scowl. He wanted neither coronation nor crown, but crowning someone without actually having a crown? It was preposterous! Though, he mused. The benefit of it is that I can more easily tell myself it’s a stewardship rather than a kingship. 

Leeli’s eyes had grown wide when Artham mentioned the scepter. “Wait, so it's a real scepter? You weren't just being figurative?” she asked, turning to Arundelle who laughed and shook her head.

“I remember the last coronation,” Nia said softly, and when he looked at her, Janner saw that her eyes were lost in the past, in memory. “Esben was only thirteen at the time. It seemed cruel.”

Janner’s stomach clenched. He was only thirteen. And it did seem cruel.

“He had been groomed for it for years, of course,” Nia said, smiling as though she remembered something sweet or entertaining about said grooming. “It was hard for him at first, but he managed. Artham, you were more helpful than anyone else.”

As the conversation took a few turns down memory lane, Janner felt himself once again detaching from it as the borderline anger he had felt before changed to panic. Terrified acceptance kicked in. There was a ceremony. He would have to be part of it, and he would be in front of everyone. His Papa had done well as King, but his Papa hadn't had kingship thrust upon him when his brother died, nor had he spent the majority of his life living in a small town with next to no training.

Not to mention—

Horror washed over him at the thought that went through his mind and he heard ringing. He wasn't sure if conversation stopped because of him or if it was simply muted, but it really didn't matter. Shame and guilt and grief and terror rushed through him all at once, a raging river against the fragile rocks of his inner being. He was too tired to suffer their cruelty without help. 

“Janner, what's going on?” Sara’s voice whispered in his ear, sending a breath through his lungs.

“Nothing much. Just…” he bit his lip, trying to decide whether telling her was the best idea or not. “We need to have a funeral for Kal and my grandfather, and we can’t possibly do anything until we’ve done that—”

“You're right,” Nia graciously interrupted him, though Janner was the only one who knew it was gracious of her. “I’ve thought about it but…all the people. There would be so many.”

“We could do it down by the beach,” Leeli suggested, and it was only when Janner looked at her face that he saw the grief residing there. By the sound of her voice, no one would have thought anything was amiss. “Somewhere a lot of people or ships won't be.”

Arundelle spoke next, her eyes warm. “If all of you want to take tomorrow away from everyone else and just have some privacy, I can help with corralling people.”

“They’re people, not horses, Arun,” Janner thought he heard Artham whisper teasingly, making Arundelle blush. 

Sara sat up as straight as possible and quickly offered, “Miss Arundelle, I can help too.”

Janner wondered if she saw or sensed the disappointment flitting into his heart, because the next moment she whispered, “Janner, I’m sorry. But you and your family should have the time together, and I’m not really a part of your family.”

“Yes, you are,” Nia said fiercely (in a mothering-sort of way), overhearing. “Please don’t think you’re not. Sara, I would be honored for you to be there at our family gathering, and, Arundelle, I would love it if you were there as well. It’s not forced, of course. Do as you wish.” 

There was an awkward silence for several seconds before Sara finally said, “Thank you so much, Mrs. Wingfeather. I appreciate it, I really do. But helping Miss Arundelle seems prudent. May I be excused? I was hoping to visit my orphans sometime this afternoon.”

Nia nodded. “Of course, dear.”

Watching as she walked away, Janner couldn’t help but grieve the (brief) loss of her companionship. On remembering what he seemed to have to re-tell himself every hour, he mentally smacked himself in the forehead. That disappointment…it was because he wanted her to be there. He wanted her there because he cared for her in a way he had never cared for anyone else. If Kal was still there, still alive, then maybe it would be alright for him to care for her in that way. But Kal wasn’t there. He wasn’t alive. And Janner couldn’t care for Sara in that way, in a way that made him actually feel a little happy. 

So distraught was he over his repeated offense, Janner completely forgot to protest when Artham insisted on him lying down in their temporary home (i.e., the castle cellar) to rest, and by the time he had worked through it enough, he had already fallen asleep.

*****

Notes:

Galya appears because...because I have readers who want an unintentional love triangle with Janner and Sara and her. HOWEVER as Janner explains in this chapter, he really just wants a person with whom he can have normal conversation.

Also, I'm still debating on whether or not I'm actually going to write the funeral...which isn't exactly a proper funeral because Kal was buried by the Maker (think Moses...) and we know what happened to Podo 😭 I don't have a funeral scene written as of this moment...so who knows... \_O_/