ZEPHYR RAVENSWOOD

“Did you know, Brother…?” His newfound sibling called to him as they walked towards the Royal Hall, the place he was to be crowned king. What a crazy turn of events. It was still queer to him, but he knew better than to dabble in questions that may not be answered anytime soon.

His body and feet itched with every step he took, so much that if he was still in his former world he might have called it a feeling of excitement, but here, right now, he knew that was hardly the case. The itch both his body and his feets were feeling had come about from the courtesy of the heels of his boots and whatever unhygienic procedure they had made his dress from. He hoped whatever this little boy planned to enlighten him about was on the manual on how to work these boots, if not, he might just have to rip them off and throw them away. His limits were upon him.

A grunt softly escaped him as he took another step. “Know what?” He glanced over at Thaddeus who strolled beside him, and on the little boy’s face was a mischievous smirk playing at the edges of his lips. There was no manual for working his boots, Zephyr knew then, and he was scared of what might come forth from the little boy’s mouth. He had heard enough, he wanted to tell Thaddeus, he didn’t want to know anything anymore.

“How the witches look?” Thaddeus let his mouth give way with a soft whisper before Zephyr could even make known his thoughts.

Witches? What Thaddeus said had the opposite effect from what Zephyr had expected. It heightened his curiosity instead of overwhelming him with more unanswered questions. His transmigration had made it pretty obvious that things concerning this world proved to not be as simple as his own world, but witches? Witches? He almost smiled. He was curious beyond reasoning and his face did no work to hide it.

“Heh. I knew you didn't know,” Thaddeus chuckled as he noticed the look Zephyr wore.

“Those witches,” Zephyr began, his head leaning over his shoulder closer to his brother’s as much as their height differences could allow, “what do you…”

Stop!

A faint voice bellowed through Zephyr’s head, instinctively forcing his hand to his temples as a sense of unease suddenly fell upon him, one that crept over his entire being and halted him from speaking further. His chest began to tighten at a quick pace, and a strange sensation made do to fill his throat, it was as though a thick choking fog closed in on him and grasped around his throat with a strong burly hand, while his tongue and lips grew numb and uncooperative as if a tight suffocating gag had been shoved down his throat, rendering him unable to speak or even make a sound. He was gasping for air on his own words.

“Brother?” Thaddeus called for his brother as they both pulled to a halt, his lips devoid of the grin of mischief he always wore.

Zephyr gasped, this time there was air. “Huh?” He noticed how heavy his breathing had become, and as soon as he thought no more of asking any question about the witch, his chest felt as though a giant rock had been lifted from it. Whatever it was it left him more uneasy than he had been when he found out he had transmigrated. This place was crazy.

“What is the problem?” Thaddeus asked with a sullen look, one that would make anyone think that he was almost concerned, that was until his smile returned, as roguish as when it had left. “Wait, do not tell me you are scared of the witches?” He was mocking Zephyr. He was mocking the soon to be king.

But Zephyr had little worry for that. He gave a light exhale as he finally stabilised his breathing, then he turned to Thaddeus and made his fear known in words. “We should speak no more of this.” We should think no more of this, more like. They were bad news, whoever those witches were. Thank goodness the choking was so little.

What he had said fell on the deaf ears of a stubborn boy though. “Say, the witches attack during the enthronement, maybe spew their poisonous venoms on us,” Thaddeus giggled as he continued. “In honesty, I wish to see them. Feast my eyes on their rat-like tails bulging out from beneath their black cloaks.”

Zephyr grimaced then, and he wasted no moment to glance fiercely at Thaddeus, a tad uncanny to him he would say, but even he could not control the visible anger and frustration that suddenly took a spread all over his face. He didn’t know how and why, but he lost control for a second there, and snapped. “I said we should speak no more of this!” He spat, startling Thaddeus, and in return, shut his mouth as well, letting not a single word take leave from his lips.

Thalia and Flynn took notice and hurried closer. Anyone would hardly not notice. Zephyr’s voice had been a boom, and even the serving maids littering about had shocked a look towards them, but it dared not last any longer than it did before they scurried away.

“Is there a problem, my lord?” Flynn asked warily, bowing as soon as he met Zephyr’s gaze.

“Does your brother anger you, Zephyr?” Thalia questioned as she gently pulled the shaken Thaddeus into her grasp.

Zephyr tsked at himself. “No, no. Forgive me. I just have a headache,” he apologised, the tension built up in his body relaxing bit by bit. “Let’s get this enthronement over with, I need to rest,” he said

“Yes, my lord.” Flynn said.

Zephyr turned around and resumed his approach to the royal hall’s door, his mind now accommodating another question he wished he had sooner avoided. Something was wrong with this place, this world and whatever it was, and in just an hour or maybe more here, it had begun to get to him.

Thaddeus looked up at his mother solemnly. “I’m sorry mother. I did not mean to anger my brother.”

She gently rubbed his hair. “It’s okay. You heard him, he’s just tired. Once he gets his rest he’ll be fine.” Even though she had said that, she was just as shaken as her son. This was something neither of them had seen from Zephyr before.

“Crown Prince Zephyr Ravenswood has arrived!” As the two royal guards positioned before the large oaken doors of the Royal Hall pushed them open with a chant, all Zephyr could think about was what had just happened. Anger, wrath and hostility, these were emotions that in his past life as Jon were never associated with him, but for some reason, all three of them suddenly came to consume him at just a thought, crashing in like a tidal wave just then. Why? What had happened? The shiver could not stop crawling up his spine, all itchy and creepy. The itch might have been his dress though.

A blinding light spilled out from within the now opened doors, and they no doubt called Zephyr out of his reverie. They were a warm glow and their hands reached out to beckon him forward, inviting him to step into the hall, to discard all the thoughts that plagued his mind and instead embrace their magnificence. Yes, it was as though he was in a movie. He saw the doors now, they were large, far larger than anything he’d ever seen. They always looked smaller in the movies, this was different. A tiny spark of excitement kindled as he took himself through, now remembering that he was about to become a king.

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The Royal Hall, grand and imposing, was adorned with tapestries designed with the same crest as he had seen hung in his room and carved onto the floor of the concourse. They were the sigil of the kingdom, he deduced now. The hall was long and spacious, so long, it felt as though it had no end, but the raised dais beyond the aisle where the throne sat, broke that sense of feeling. It was a feeling that he liked being broken, the same as the choking feeling that he had encountered, he could not imagine himself walking with these heels through an aisle that had no end. Heck he just wanted this over with so he could get these boots off his legs.

Zephyr looked around at both the western and the eastern sides of the hall, and there, on both sides, stood long rows of guards, all caped in distinguished black like the ones that manned his door. In the gallery above them were a few people, both men and women, adorned with beautiful clothings and jewellery, every single one of them draped to showcase that they were no less than nobility, but despite their status, they stood with their heads lowered as he walked down the long hall and towards the throne; his mother, Thalia, and his brother, Thaddeus, along with Ophelia, and her children, Damon, Dante and Aria, and his royal advisor, Flynn, all following closely behind.

He shrugged his shoulders slightly, releasing a bit of tension from them as he raised his head high as lordly as he thought he could make it. There were a lot of people here and he had to make himself act the king he was about to become, only if he actually knew what it entailed to become one. Damn the ones that had dumped him into such a warped situation. How had they expected him to cope with no knowledge whatsoever of this world. His legs itched again and he began to hope he would not fall before he arrived at the dais. If there was anything he would not be able to shoulder, it was that.

Thankfully, after what felt like a long time, he arrived at the end of his journey down the hall, the end of the dais of the throne he was to sit upon. It was made of a dark bronze stone, and was neither cushioned nor upholstered nor designed with gems of any sort. It was dark and grim, and it should have been anything but beautiful, but that was exactly what it was, beautiful, to his eyes and no doubt to the eyes of everyone who might lay them upon it. The fingers of the sun’s golden light that came in from the high-windows of the hall layered themselves all over the throne, and they made it so magnificent and tempting that he wanted to stroll up and sit upon it like the king he was about to become. But he need not rush. He would sit upon it sooner than later.

Zephyr glanced behind him and watched his family branch into the opposite sides of the hall. Flynn climbed the steps of the eastern gallery, branching to the side of Thalia and Thaddeus, the second branch as Zephyr thought them to be, went up the western gallery.

“The enthronement shall now begin,” a hoarse voice said, pulling Zephyr’s gaze to it. The voice was the one of a wrinkled old man with a monocle seated atop his eye, and was dressed in a long white robe made of silk, with a large gold chain hanging loosely from around his neck like an untightened noose. He approached the dais from the throne’s left with another man, that one younger, but halfway bald nonetheless, and dressed in the same white robe as he, just slightly lesser in largeness. In the younger one's hand was a silver tray, and atop it stood a goblet, lay a parchment, and sat the grandest of all, the golden crown, hemmed atop all sides with garnets and rubies and pearls, all different colours than each other.

The wrinkled old man slowly climbed two steps of the three step dais one at a time, the younger one matching his snailish steps from behind, then he turned over to Zephyr, cleared his throat and began speaking to the ladies and lords in the hall, silent and still as it was, “I, Aelred, pious crow of Ravenswatch and grand savant to the throne of Ravenwing, bid you all to bear witness to this day. The day Crown Prince Zephyr takes to the throne of the kingdom of Ravenwing, as his father, the late king, Sargon Ravenswood did for his father, and as it has been done for centuries past. Those who might bear any ill will or disapproval of his claim should hereby step forward and make known their cause, or acknowledge by the grace of the ravens that Zephyr Ravenswood is the one true heir to the throne, lord of the realm, and protector of the lands and seas.”

The Royal Hall retained its silence still, Zephyr heard no one bring forth any cause, and of course it was not as he had expected. They had been such a lively pair a moment ago, Ophelia and her son Damon, so why were they so silent now that they could bring forth their issues? He wanted to glance back to see the hall in its still wideness, but the grand savant had waited enough for the claims to be brought.

“As no ill claims have been brought forward,” the old man intoned with a loud but cracking voice smeared with old age, “the ravens have deemed Zephyr Ravenswood’s reign to be set adrift.” He cleared his throat again. “I, Grand Savant Aelred, filled with the wisdom and the eyesight of the ravens, crown you, Zephyr Ravenswood, son of the late king, Sargon Ravenswood, King of Ravenwing. May you reign for many years with the wisdom and the justice of the ravens, upholding the laws of the land and protecting the people from harm, and may your rule bring further prosperity and peace to the kingdom.” He picked up the crown from the tray, adjusted his step, and then placed the crown on Zephyr’s head. “Kneel, if you will, my lord,” the old man told Zephyr after he had picked up the parchment from the tray. He unrolled it as Zephyr knelt. “Repeat after me.” He cleared his throat again. “I, King Zephyr of House Ravenswood, first of his name and watcher of the realms of men.” He glanced at Zephyr.

Zephyr understood and recited after him, “I, King Zephyr of House Ravenswood, first of his name and watcher of the realms of men.”

Grand Savant Aelred looked back at the parchment. “Pledge my life to the people of the kingdom of Ravenwing.”

“Pledge my life to the people of the kingdom of Ravenwing,” Zephyr repeated.

“To live in their service and to fill their hearts with peace and ease.”

“To live in their service and to fill their hearts with peace and ease.”

The old man rolled up the parchment while he said, “For all my days to come.”

“For all my days to come.” Zephyr nodded slightly at the old man. He had listened carefully to the words, but he wondered if all that had been said had been done the same way by the kings of old. He could not judge without seeing the kingdom at large, he knew, but he had seen enough movies to know that only the nobles in any of the medieval eras lived in peace and ease, and even theirs were not far fetched from a little sorrow and grief.

The old man picked up the goblet from the tray after he had dropped the parchment, and handed it over to Zephyr who took it in hand deftly and peered into it to see the swirls of a drink darkened in red. It was wine and he knew what he was to do. He put the cup to his lips and gulped the wine down, the sourness making his eyes pinch, but only just. As soon as he was done he handed it back to the grand savant who returned it back to the tray before chanting a last, “May the ravens watch over you!”

Zephyr thought he was to repeat that too, but the unison chant of the people who filled the hall saved him from that embarrassment.

Grand Savant Aelred came down from the dais and gestured for Zephyr to take his place on the throne as the new king of the kingdom of Ravenwing.

Zephyr gave a slight nod and began to advance up the dais as soon as he rose from his knee.

It did not take long before he stood facing the throne, it had only been three steps up, but now that he was there, he watched it for a while, allowing his eyes to embrace it before he turned around to face the hall spread out wider than it seemed to have been when he walked in. Up here on the dais it was as though he was standing over the whole world, and the people still chanting made that feel even more powerful.

Zephyr slowly sat down, settling himself against the throne, the feel of the weight of the crown on his head and the coolness of the polished stone against his back almost making him think it a dream, but the pain he had gone through at death when he was still Jon reminded him that it wasn’t. He gently let his fingers run through the armrest of the throne, caressing it with a deep embrace as a soft smile crept upon his face unwillingly. He had transmigrated and became a king.