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“You look lovely, Your Highness.”
Luxa stood in front of a full length mirror, studying her regalia, and she did not turn to Ripred as he spoke to her from the doorway of her dressing room. Her hair was loose and fell to her hips, save two small French braids that gathered the hair around her temples and joined in the back. Around her head was the simple gold circlet she had worn for years. She wore a sleeveless white gown, intricately embroidered with gold thread in patterns of leaves and flowers. Over it, she wore what Ripred could only describe as an open periwinkle vest, except that instead of stopping at her hips, it went on to create an extravagant train, which was for the moment folded over itself behind her feet. Over her shoulders was interlaced gold, representative of chain link spaulders. Across her waist and midriff was a bloodred sash with its edges trimmed in gold. Ripred knew this sash all too well; he wore a matching one which wrapped from his throat over his shoulders to where it met at a point at his lower back, creating a large “V” across his body. At its point, it connected with a smaller ribbon that secured it across his stomach to keep it from moving as he walked. It was utterly ridiculous— Luxa had teased him relentlessly when it was fitted for him— but he knew it was important to keep up appearances for the Regalians’ benefit, and he took solace in the fact that Aurora looked equally odd in a similar sash. The members of Luxa’s family and court wore red sashes, too, but they had the exclusively human privilege of not looking stupid in clothes.
“Miravet began embroidering this fabric soon after I was born,” Luxa murmured, taking a handful of her skirt and running her thumb over the gold stitching. This was unsurprising to Ripred— Miravet had always doted on her great nieces and nephews. Luxa especially. The wartime armorer was a peacetime seamstress, and she was Regalia’s best at both. The gown proved that. “And now,” Luxa continued, “I am to wear it on my coronation day.”
She turned to Ripred then. “She began her work before she knew what sort of girl would wear it on this day. I could have been a tyrant. I could have been a coward. I could have been a traitor,” she said, the last word spoken with a voice shot full of pain. Five years had not been enough time to heal completely. “She would have made this dress regardless. And now, I cannot help but wonder if I deserve it. If I deserve any of this.”
Ripred wasn’t sure anyone deserved the crown. It was a burden as much as it was a reward if not moreso. But he did believe she was the best candidate, and he did believe her people deserved her.
Luxa pushed on, “The only reason this—“ she tapped the gold band around her head— “is mine is because my father once wore one like it. I ended up wearing it by chance. Sometimes, I cannot help but wonder if the people would be best off if it belonged to another.”
“There is no other,” Ripred affirmed. “There’s just you.” The past four years had allowed the bonds to be vulnerable with each other, but this was a Luxa he was unused to. Luxa always believed in herself, trusted herself, so Ripred knew these doubts must’ve been eating her alive from the inside out. He thought her concern was healthy, but he knew it couldn’t be allowed to hinder her.
“Miravet embroidered that fabric because she had hope that the village raising you would do a well enough job that you deserved it. And it was a gamble that paid off. She wouldn’t have bothered to make it into a dress, otherwise,” said Ripred. “You have accomplished more meaningful feats in your handful of years ruling than any other king or queen. At every opportunity, you exemplified bravery, selflessness, and a shrewd mind. You proved, time and time again, you belong on the throne.”
“I led them into the most costly, violent war we have ever fought,” Luxa stated softly, studying the ground.
“Yes,” Ripred replied quietly. “But you led them out of it, too. And you intended to make sure there would never be another.”
Luxa met his eyes at that, the corners of her lips turning up. “We did.”
“Yes, we did. Two lines met,” Ripred recited. “You are just as much the Peacemaker as I am.” Even though Sandwich was nothing more than a madman in his eyes, even if the prophecies were just worthless words on worthless walls, that much was true, and Ripred hoped it might give her confidence. But Luxa shot him a look that said, Ripred, you’re full of shit. Coupled with her trademark skepticism, it was a look she had perfected.
So Ripred shook his head. “Look, forget prophecy. Forget the line of succession. Forget tradition. Your people are not a trusting sort, but they trust you. Even back when you were a petulant eleven-year-old, running behind the council’s back, risking your life over matters you didn’t understand, they trusted you. And they still trust you now. Even though you’re still petulant. Still running behind the council’s back, risking your life over matters you don’t understand.”
This earned him another half-smile, but it was gone as soon it was there. She shook her head. “I just hope I am the ruler they want. The one they expect me to be.”
Ripred sat back on his haunches. “Luxa, listen to me.” Her eyes snapped up from the ground, meeting his. “They would not have fought a war over the well-being of another species for just any leader. They would not have trusted just any queen to wander into a peace circle and bond with a pariah.” He said, studying her face, looking for a sign that he was reaching her, and was reassured with what he found there. Determination. Courage. And hope, tentative but tenacious. The things that made her who she was. He was reminded suddenly of that day in the arena, of facing each other as leader to leader, arbiter to arbiter, king to queen. Equals.
Ripred's voice was soft. “They want you to lead them because of who you are. You aren’t just queen because your father was king,” he confided. “You are queen because you are the one they chose.”
Luxa smiled at him. A real smile, not one of her tiny smirks, but one that reached her eyes, made them twinkle like her grandfather’s. “We must get going, then,” she said resolutely, almost nonchalant, reaching behind her and scooping up her folded train.
Ripred chuckled. “Yes, we must. Did you warm up your voice? I’m quite ready to for your croaking dazzle us all.”
Luxa swatted him lightly. “The choir and I are ready, whether you are or not,” she teased in response.
“Good. Let’s do this, then,” Ripred said as they approached their processional entourage.
“Yes, let us do this,” Luxa responded, shoving the little band of gold on her head back one last time.