"You're too much, father" Evan chuckled, watching his mother rush away with a shocked looking Elaina. With the women gone, King Berand wrapped an arm around his son's shoulders and pulled him into a head hug. Evan smiled up at his father, noting the small tears at the corner of the old man's eyes. He couldn't, wouldn't, address it though. He knew well that it would only serve to embarrass the man who had been a stern king, despite his kind nature. The kingdom had run smoothly beneath the watchful gaze of the king that the children 'round the land had known affectionately as Father King. Truly, he had been the firm hand that it had needed to prosper and Evan could only hope that he would do half so well.
With a slightly affected gait, the king made his way to the stairs opposite where Elaina and Monica would have disappeared to go to the Queen's chambers. While each had their own wing of the castle, they were across from one another and met in the middle. Atypical of many royal marriages, Berand and Monica had been very much in love and slept in the same bedchamber, a large room meeting at the middle of the two wings.
Where the chamber of the queen were brightly decorated, soft and beautiful with fabrics and flowers, the kings were scented with oiled leather and woodsmoke. The walls were adorned more simply with only an occasional tapestry. The exception to this was in the room that the king led Evan to now. It was one that Evan fondly referred to as the Room of Memories. A wardrobe with fine clothing sat at the back. On the walls hung portraits of Evan's ancestors, all the kings with serious expressions and kind eyes. Evan found joy in seeing his own features reflected in their faces, a sense of kinship despite how small a family he had with only a surviving mother and father. It was from this wardrobe that his father extracted the wedding attire to hand to Evan.
First from the wardrobe was pulled a single breasted vest in charcoal gray made from a material that felt fluid in Evan's hands. Next came a pair of sensible black trousers who, upon feeling them, Evan realized were combed cotton. A white collared shirt came, followed by a black silk damask tailcoat and ascot, and finally a pair of mid-calf black boots. Overwhelmed, Evan teetered a little with the pile of clothing. His father stepped out to allow his son privacy in changing.
Queen Monica listened to the girl's words, a pang of sadness hit her chest. It must have been difficult, growing up without her mother. Nodding solemnly but not knowing what to say, Monica felt the absence of her best friend as well. It was tragic, really, not having her around for this day that the two of them had so cheerfully planned. When Monica had discovered her girlhood friend married in the kingdom near hers, she had arranged for visits all the time, at least twice a year, between the two. Letters were frequently exchanged between them and it had been a dream to discover that they were pregnant at the same time. Their giddy plans to be related, truly, at last were strengthened by Monica's resolve to help the enfeebled Rosenthal. The sadness was acute, an undercurrent to the joy.
When she noticed Elaina eyeing the portrait, Monica was happy for the chance to shift the conversation to more cheerful topics. "My darling little boy, isn't he the sweetest? He always looked so sour like that. The artist wanted us to have him smile for it but Evan simply wasn't having it." Twirling a little, partly so that Elaina would not see the tears prickling her eyes, Monica drew out the dress.
"I am flattered that I remind you of her, dear. She would have been so proud of you; I know that I am. You're a lovely lady, all the best I could have hoped for when I saw you as a child. Here, won't you try this on?"
Monica was handing the dress to Elaina now, her face a portrait of mixed sadness and joy.
