Whitney Writes…

It had been a long day. A grueling day. Ralof was not certain who the crowning ceremony had been more painful: his son, Rolund I, having to sit through the ordeal at only seven-years-old, or Ralof, having to watch his son attempt to sit through it. Towards the end, the boy had barely been able to keep his eyes open. His little golden head bobbing forward, his crown nearly toppling from his head. The courtiers would have had a field day with that. The Divines this… The Divines that…

Rolund I had been so tired, he had only protested the tiniest of bits when Ralof had redirected him from heading towards the nursery he’d shared with his siblings, to the bedchamber off the throne room.

“You’ll sleep on your own, from now on,” Ralof had said gently. “A king needs his rest and no distractions.”

“But… won’t they miss me?” Rolund I had asked softly.

“Oh, to be sure,” Ralof had replied, “but they will understand, you’re king now.”

“Even… even Unar and Ah-Hareem?” Rolund I asked hesitantly.

So, there it was. The boy was worried his two older brothers would be upset with him for surpassing them as king. In truth, only his sister, Jaga, had sulked. Unar and Ah-Hareem were so self-absorbed and could scarcely see past their own noses, that they didn’t even realize they were being bypassed. They had never wanted the responsibility, they had seen what it did to their mother. They had simply wanted to enjoy being princes. And now they could.

“Don’t you worry about your brothers,” Ralof said, “they will always love and support you. Just as Uncle Galiel and Uncle Taranal supported your mother.” As soon as he’d said it, Ralof realized it had been the wrong thing to say. He sighed, “Well,” he added limply, “try to get some sleep, my boy.”

“Papa,” came Rolund I’s tiny voice from the big bed, “can’t you stay and tell me a story?”

Ralof gave pause; he would have to remember that even though his son was still king, he was just a little boy. This roll would crush him if Ralof did not protect him. He turned away from the door.

“Very well, Rolly,” he said returning to the big bed. “What shall it be?”

“The Argonian rhinoceros!” Rolund I cried without hesitation. Ralof chuckled, it had always been one of Rolund I’s favorites. So, he settled into the bed beside his son to tell him the tale of the Argonian who fell in love with a mythical rhinoceros.

Inktober 2024, Prompt #21: RHINOCEROS🧡🖤👻🎃