He stood looking at himself in the mirror. Chiseled jaw, muscular build, and dark eyes. He was the mirror image of his father, the king. Or former king. William was to now take the throne. Tonight was his coronation, but a weight of worry was on his shoulders. Now that he was to be King, nobles would be forcing their daughteres upon him, though he had no wish for their silly games of rising stature. His grief over his father's death was still heavy in his soul and even attending the coronation was over the top for him. As the chambermaids dressed him in the finest clothes suited for a king, he couldn't help but to stare out the window. Spring was approaching, a time for new life and happy feasts. The war had ended, and his country had recieved new territory, though he found no celebration in the matter. As the maids finished dressing him, he dismissed them, asking for his own privacy. He walked across his chamber and faced the fireplace, which had the dying embers of a previous night's fires. He couldn't help to look at it from a cynical point of view. "Everything dies anyways, so what is the point of trying to be the best?" he wondered out loud. Eventually, his mother cae into the room and guided him towards the coronation hall where he was to be crowned. No doubt men would offer their finest daughters and jewels in order to win his favor. Though he would be polite, William had no intention of allowing them to buy him over.