The walls are covered in old paintings of pirate ships and maps of Cordelle, Xalia, and Oceania. Ian Ravenswood, before he was king of Xalia, was one of the best sailors Xalia has ever seen. Some of the Guards say that he would often abandon his princely duties to go sailing. The only indication left of that legacy lay in his Study.

Several bookshelves line the walls. His desk is scattered with many bills and legislatures and letters addressed for matters of the King. Ian is sitting in his big maroon leather desk chair and his piercing blue eyes have dark circles underneath. His age is starting to show on him with the crinkles in the corners of his kind eyes, and his black, but going grey, hair. He's twirling an aged golden necklace with a crimson jewel around and around in his hands. His look is solemn as he glances up at his daughter.

"Hello, sweetheart, please sit," He motions to the empty leather chair sitting in front of his desk. She obeys and slowly sinks into the leather chair across from him. She begins to fidget with the silver ring on her index finger Elliot had given her for the Christmas Festival one year.

"A lot is about to change as I'm sure you are well aware, more than what already has."

She nods, swallowing the lump in her throat, and begins to notice how cold her hands are, so she places them in her lap to warm them.

"And you're probably wondering what the next step for our country is since you've finally come of age."

She doesn't take her eyes off the necklace that he's twisting in his hands. The red stone seems to see right into her soul, and she shivers.

"Xalia is hurting. With the Rebellions rising against the War, I'm afraid if I don't do anything soon, we will fall into anarchy again. The country is restless, and I can't bring change by myself."

She shivers at the thought of that Era of Darkness happening again. She remembers the History lessons imprinted into her brain as if they happened yesterday. After what was known as North America in the Ancient Times had the fifth and final Civil War that divided the continent up into separate regions, there was a ten-year period of executions, illness, and lawlessness that ravaged what is now the country that Xalia is now. Millions of citizens suffered and the casualty rate was the highest it has ever been. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to block out the memory.

"What are we going to do?" She whispers, pushing away all thoughts of the Era Of Darkness, as her wise tutors had called it.

"There is only one thing that wins wars and saves countries from ruin, and that is a mass of people with hope for a better future." His Celtic blue eyes bore into hers. "I cannot give that to them. Not anymore."

Something almost like sadness flickered across his face so quick, most would miss it.

Most kings could just remarry, but even from an outsider's perspective, Maelia could tell her father would never love anyone the way he loved her mother. The mere thought of marrying someone else repulsed him. He wouldn't marry for political gain, because he believed marriage was a sacred practice given by the gods to symbolize love. She swallowed hard. A deep feeling in her gut told her that she knew where this is going.

"But I can give them someone who can, and that person is you, Maelia."

The words struck her harder than she expected them to. I am barely eighteen and I am expected to rule over a whole country? The thought of commanding people to go into a war where half aren't expected to return is enough to make her sick to her stomach.

"What are you suggesting?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"I think it is time I pass the crown to you."

"Are you sure? I am barely eighteen!"

"Your mother would want you to have it. She believes-" He closes his eyes and swallowed hard. "She believed you were ready."

Maelia's mind slipped into a thought of her last moments on that ship before it went down. She died thinking I was ready to inherit a kingdom. I will inherit a gift that so many people would die for. A gift many would protect. And it's a gift I didn't even want.

"And I believe we should start the Coronation Ritual as soon as possible." He glances over at the necklace and she nods, grim, unable to process any of the thought she is thinking now.

"I know you've learned about this process, but I've decided I'm going to commence the start of the festivities tomorrow on The Broadcast."

"Tomorrow?" She sits there, mouth agape. Her mouth feels dry.

"I've set Bloodstone Day to be exactly two months from tomorrow. December 10th." His facial expression is unreadable.

She takes a glance back over at the necklace. The blood-red jewel in the center will be deciding her fate in less than two months.

Of course, she knew of the Coronation Ritual, but one has not happened in forty years. The last one was when her father was still a prince and the Bloodstone had chosen her Mother's Heirloom, the Seashell. Her mother's family had come from some of the best fishermen in Xalia.

The Coronation Ritual consists of many phases, and they all happen very quickly. Phase one: meeting the 24 potentials for husband or wife for the Heir. Each suitor is given an Heirloom from their family to show their status or occupation and that is how they are distinguished. Phase two: on Coronation day, the Heir will slice his or her hand open and let a drop of their blood fall on the Bloodstone necklace, that piece of jewelry that her father now had in his hands, along with all of the Candidates. Phase three: the necklace will show two heirlooms. One of the Heir, and one of The Chosen. Shortly after, is Phase four, the final phase. The official wedding and Coronation of the Heir and The Chosen, broadcasting, live, to the entire country.

Her mouth goes dry at the thought of marrying a complete stranger. Or anyone at this point.

"What about the Candidates? When will I meet them?" She whispers.

Father smiles weakly. "We have to sift through all of the applications and pick one from each Province. It'll take time. My best estimation is a week at most."

A week. Only a week until my future husband will walk these halls.

She can only give him a nod.

"I know this is a lot to take in, but such is the cost of the Crown, believe me, I've been through it. But you have your mother's blood in you, and that already makes you stronger than you even know." He runs a hand through his hair.

"I miss her too, Father."

"I will kill every single one of the bastards responsible for her death." He slams a hand on the desk and puts his head in his hands. He apologizes softly.

"We will bring them to their knees for taking her away from us." a tear spills over on her cheek. Ian grabs her hand, warm against her freezing own.

They sit in silence for a minute and she closes her eyes. And for one moment, for the first time since she died, Maelia felt close to her father.

"And one other thing..." He says, almost like a whisper.

"Yes?"

"Elliot is coming by tomorrow and plans to stay for the entirety of your Coronation." He looks up at her with a faint smile and winks.

Her heart swells so largely she feels it might burst. She has not seen him in person since she was sixteen and he was seventeen. Her best friend, her only true friend who understands, will be in the same country as her tomorrow. Not thousands of miles away. Holy gods.

"Really?" A smile spreads across her face.

"I thought that would cheer you up."

"What time will he arrive?" She cannot contain her smile.

He lets go of her hand and stands and begins to pace.

"He should be here around lunchtime. Renn is going to be going over important things to remember about the Coronation Ritual with you. I want you to actually listen to her and pay attention. And I don't want to hear of you two sneaking away. Are we clear?"

"Crystal." Maelia begins to smirk as she stands and turns on her heel to face the door.

"Oh, and Maelia-"

"Hm?" The smirk falling from her face.

"I love you, sweetheart."

She smiles again.

"I love you too, Father."

She opens the large walnut door to The Study and rushes back towards her Bed Chambers so quickly, she's afraid the Guards will believe she's being chased.

♚

Maelia goes to her Bed Chambers and opens the drawer to her large dresser. She pulls out her paint smock and a handful of her paintbrushes. She walks to the canvas that has been sitting on the easel for days now. She's finally found some motivation to finish it. She squeezes some of the grey and white paints on the palette and smiles with satisfaction. The painting is a black dragon in the middle of a flight, surrounded by smoke. The project has taken Maelia days, but that didn't seem to matter too much, given how much time she found was on her hands. Her wrists flicked in upward motions creating more spirals of grey smoke, contrasting against the black scales of the dragon.

She painted until she was so tired she could hardly clean up her mess before she curled on the carpet and dozed off into a steady sleep.