And so it came to pass, on the first of May in this year, His Highness Crown Prince Gustav de la Courcel stood in the grand throne room of the Royal Palace and took his place upon the throne as King of Terre D’Ange.
It was a grand and glittering assemblage of nobles, ambassadors, and peers from Terre D’Ange and beyond. Queen Anielle de la Courcel stood on dais, next to the throne that had been hers for so long; to her side stood her daughter, the Princess Livette. Before them, arrayed in an arc, were the High Priests and Priestesses of the Companion Orders in their robes and masks and symbols of angelic power. Ambassadors lined one side of the hall, Peers of the Realm the other. Nobles and other guests were arranged by province, with higher status allowing closer places to witness this tremendous occasion.
The Dowaynes and Seconds of the Court of Night Blooming Flowers were also in attendance and those among the guests who knew the gossip glanced overtly to the courtesans. The Prince entered in his robes of state: Courcel blue with a collar of swan feathers, clasped with a gold lily. Gone was the young prince, so unsure of himself and his future. Before them strode a King. He walked with steady, measured steps down the length of the hall, his bare head held high. He did not look left or right. His blue eyes were only for his mother who stood waiting for him before the throne.
The Queen wore also Courcel blue, a simple gold circlet on her head marked with the lily to signal her status, as she watched her youngest son approach the throne. She had never thought to see him here. She had had three other boys before him, but they were all gone. Now she only had her two youngest. This was never meant to be their fate. This throne and this crown was never meant for Gustav to bear. Was she doing the right thing?
It was too late to wonder that now because he was standing before her. She kissed his cheeks and he smiled at her before kneeling, his blue cape flaring out behind him. Silence filled the grand hall and Anielle took a deep breath, focusing on her little boy.
“Gustav de la Courcel, Crown Prince of Terre D’Ange, and my fourth born, my surviving son. Through the Courcel blood that flows in your veins, you have claim to the throne of Terre D’Ange. Will you accept it?”
His head nodded gravely. “I will.”
Her voice swelled, ensuring that every ear in the hall could hear, “I am Anielle de la Courcel, your mother, and Queen of Terre D’Ange. I sat this throne with your father while he lived and I sat it as we mourned his death and that of your brothers. But you, my son, have come of age, have studied and learned what it is to be a Prince. Your blood is royal, but it cannot tell you how to rule. For that you must learn on your own. I have seen you grow from a babe to a boy to a young man and now I see you grow into a King. Before the High Priests and Priestesses of the Companion Orders, before the combined power of the Sovereign Ducs, before the nobles and the people of our country, and before Elua and all his Companions, with willing hands and a heart full of love, I pass my crown to you. Gustav, will you accept it?”
He took in a breath of his own, eyes flicking to the crown his sister held on a velvet cushion, “I will.”
His mother nodded and lifted the crown from the cushion, raising it high. After a reverent pause, in which everyone in the hall could see and witness it, she set the crown of Terre D’Ange on his head, bending to kiss his brow gently before stepping aside for the Priests and Priestesses.
Head Priests and Priestesses of each Temple in the City of Elua arranged themselves before the throne in the robes of their Order and carrying the symbols of their holy office. As had been tradition, each of the Orders and each of the representatives of the Companions asked a question of the young man that was a binding vow for all to hear and witness.
The High Priest of Elua in his blue robes clasped his hands at his stomach and said, “In Elua’s name I ask you, will you serve the people and the land that has passed down to you through your angel’s blood and look with kindness upon all that shelter in Elua’s grace?”
“I will.”
The Prefect of the Casseline Brotherhood stood in the robes of the order and fixed the young prince with a stern look, demanding, “In Cassiel’s name I ask you, will you strive to become the Perfect Companion for your country and protect your people and your land with loyalty and love?”
“I will.”
The bronze mask of Azza’s face made the words echo slightly as the figure in saffron said, “In Azza’s name I ask you, will you always look to the horizon for the next opportunity that your reign brings for Terre D’Ange? Will you trust in your course and navigate your people to success?”
“I will.”
The figure bearing the scroll and stylus of knowledge and the grey robes of the scholar angel asked, “In Shemhazai’s name I ask you, will you always seek to learn and never turn away from those who would advise you?”
“I will.”
The priestess standing for Camael drew her sword and held it upright before her, saying, “In Camael’s name I ask you, will you defend your people, your country, and your throne with strength and courage?”
“I will.”
The sea-blue robes of the representative for Eisheth shifted and swayed like water as the question was posed, “In Eisheth’s name I ask you, will you serve as surgeon and heal any and all wounds that may befall your country and your people?”
“I will.”
The priest of Anael, in brown robes, spread his calloused hands, “In Anael’s name I ask you, will you till the fields and tend the flocks and add with your own hands to the abundance of this land, never taking for granted the power of hard work and the deep roots that bind you to the earth, our mother?”
“I will”
The representative for Naamah smiled down at the prince, scarlet robes shifting with the breath as it was asked, “In Naamah’s name I ask you, will you pay heed to your heart and follow your desires truthfully that the service you do as King will be a wilful assignation of true love?”
There was the barest pause, a hesitation that had some of the nobles glancing to the Dahlia Second, before Gustav vowed, “I will.”
Last to speak was the black-robed and bronze masked figure that stood to represent Kushiel, and she was the most stern of them all. She barely moved and Gustav had to force himself to look into her eyes behind her mask as she spoke, “In Kushiel’s name I warn you, the vows you have sworn are binding in this Terre D’Ange and the True Terre D’Ange Beyond. Should they be broken, then Kushiel’s justice will be swift. But no one should take this burden upon them without being truly willing. Gustav de la Courcel, do you willingly accept the words of these oaths within your heart?”
He clenched his hands to stop them from shaking, “I do.”
The High Priest of Elua spoke again, lifting his hands in blessing, “Then let it be known from the rocky shores of Kusheth to the warm waters of Eisande, from the mountains of Siovale to the forest borders of Camlach and Azzale, from the rivers of Namarre to the orchards and fields of L’Agnace! By the grace of Elua he stands, Crown Prince no longer, but Gustav de la Courcel, King of Terre D’Ange.”
So let it be known! Let it be announced! Let it be witnessed!
And thus it was done.
Long live the King.
