Dayan had it all, he had had it all, but no longer. All of this had turned into a shitshow that wasn’t funny in the slightest and if he was frank, no amount of nice words, lovely conversations and well-meant offerings were going to fix that. There were holes in his body, as there were holes in his heart and while the physical wounds would eventually heal up, the psychological ones needed time - time Dayan couldn’t give them and time he never had to begin with. Was there even a need to find someone to fix all of this for him, to hire a group of bounty hunters just to get somewhere, all because he couldn’t leave the castle after this? Whatever the case, he was to be king of a country that - not so long ago - was busy murdering his own people, busy tearing their lives apart and giving them hell for simply existing. What was it with those stupid arguments between them anyway? Monsters weren’t born, they were made and the fact that all of Adrestia had claimed the people of Thria to be nothing but that was absurd, by a long shot. “It’s alright, I don’t blame you.” The only person he could, effectively, blame was himself and it never would or could be anyone else. In the end, what did it matter? Dayan was old enough to realize that time waited for nobody, not even for a king.
His coronation was supposed to be a joyous moment, something that barely anyone would criticize and yet, Dayan shared the same sentiment as those who didn’t want him on their throne: He didn’t belong there. What were those words worth? Surely not a whole lot, he knew that, but frankly, he didn’t need to think too much about any of that, he loathed all those thoughts that swamped his head and the stinging pain in his side didn’t make it better - it was dull, but if this went on, he’d have to stand up. “So”, the prince started, opening his eyes and glancing at the redhead. “You’re telling me, pretty much half of Adrestia is invited to my coronation, as long as they have a name and a title?” This sounded ridiculous and it, very much, would be one mess of a day. Or was it more than that? Weren’t coronations unnecessarily long? “And to erase all doubt from their mind, to make them agree that I’m supposed to be king, I have to talk to them.” The rooms would be stuffy, the atmosphere mixed and gloomy at best and he’d sweat buckets because of how nervous and anxious he was. Fuck, this wasn’t going to go anywhere - and what on earth had happened to him? Why was he so opposed to all of this? “Isn’t a coronation as big as that just one way to make me a standout target?”, Dayan suddenly asked, but he eyed the plan with all the seating on them anyway, before he reached for a pen. “I think I’ll be able to fill that out myself, no need to concern you with - but I’d like to hear your opinion regardless. Which means, we’ll seat those lovely people here ... or rather here?”, he inquired and pointed at two different locations, at the end of the ballroom, in some corners. The one thing that interrupted them, however, was a knock at the door and the servant bringing them both of their teacups, alongside some sugar, and setting those down in-front of them ... eugh, he should really specify he didn’t want his stuff touched, did he? Dayan eventually shooed her away with a quick “thank you”, but then went back to the tables. “Considering that my uncle and his family sits at my table, I’m guessing we could seat the nobles of Wezette and Stenz there and you and your family here?” Those tables weren’t too far from his own, adjacent in fact. “Unless you’d rather not be in their reach.”
His coronation was supposed to be a joyous moment, something that barely anyone would criticize and yet, Dayan shared the same sentiment as those who didn’t want him on their throne: He didn’t belong there. What were those words worth? Surely not a whole lot, he knew that, but frankly, he didn’t need to think too much about any of that, he loathed all those thoughts that swamped his head and the stinging pain in his side didn’t make it better - it was dull, but if this went on, he’d have to stand up. “So”, the prince started, opening his eyes and glancing at the redhead. “You’re telling me, pretty much half of Adrestia is invited to my coronation, as long as they have a name and a title?” This sounded ridiculous and it, very much, would be one mess of a day. Or was it more than that? Weren’t coronations unnecessarily long? “And to erase all doubt from their mind, to make them agree that I’m supposed to be king, I have to talk to them.” The rooms would be stuffy, the atmosphere mixed and gloomy at best and he’d sweat buckets because of how nervous and anxious he was. Fuck, this wasn’t going to go anywhere - and what on earth had happened to him? Why was he so opposed to all of this? “Isn’t a coronation as big as that just one way to make me a standout target?”, Dayan suddenly asked, but he eyed the plan with all the seating on them anyway, before he reached for a pen. “I think I’ll be able to fill that out myself, no need to concern you with - but I’d like to hear your opinion regardless. Which means, we’ll seat those lovely people here ... or rather here?”, he inquired and pointed at two different locations, at the end of the ballroom, in some corners. The one thing that interrupted them, however, was a knock at the door and the servant bringing them both of their teacups, alongside some sugar, and setting those down in-front of them ... eugh, he should really specify he didn’t want his stuff touched, did he? Dayan eventually shooed her away with a quick “thank you”, but then went back to the tables. “Considering that my uncle and his family sits at my table, I’m guessing we could seat the nobles of Wezette and Stenz there and you and your family here?” Those tables weren’t too far from his own, adjacent in fact. “Unless you’d rather not be in their reach.”
Looking back, it maybe is like the toy carts you rode when you were a kid. But those toy carts could never go beyond the walls of the lawn. We want to follow the rugged concrete road beyond the wall. As we've grown, we've decided to leave behind the toy cart.