Page 44 of Striking
A new era.
A new reign.
One day, my family will walk behind my coffin, and I hope when that day comes, I will have lived a life they can be proud of.
Been a king they were honored to serve.
Been a father and husband who made sure they knew they were loved, cherished, and mattered more than their titles.
The procession progresses slightly longer than one mile before we stop and watch as a white-gloved military regiment silently moves into place with beautiful precision. They’ve been practicing this for years. Not just this but so many aspects of the funeral have been planned for over a decade. There were only a few areas I could trim things back and honor Grandfather’s wishes, and today was not one of them.
I remember the day he and my mother sat me down in his office and told me I would be king one day. He told me it was okay to be scared. Fear was healthy. If a man didn’t fear the kind of power I’d one day hold in my hand, he’d be a terrible leader.
I was seven.
Fear was relative. It grew with me for years before I eventually learned to control it and ultimately accept it. By the time I was at university, I’d fully embraced my role in our country but still hated the idea of it because I’ve always known for me to reign, my grandfather and mother would both be gone. Few kings look forward to their coronation because it means they buried a parent or grandparent.
At the end of today, I will have done both.
Eight highly decorated soldiers remove the coffin from the carriage and carefully fold the flag before standing still as we all observe a single minute of silence to honor the king.
The general nods my way, signaling us into the church, and I step forward first and press my palm against the casket and offer up a silent prayer.
I will honor you. Now is your turn to find peace with Mother and Grandmother.
I step aside and wait for Atticus, Lennon, and Maddox before we make the long walk down the aisle of the abbey. The one Bellamy would have made had we upheld tradition and gotten married here instead of the quiet ceremony on palace grounds. And once we’re in front of the Archbishop, we all bow and sit down, side by side, with my father behind us.
It’s a statement.
A powerful one.
The three Windsor siblings united.
It’s also a strategic move on my part. A show of unity between us. The world may think our family is in chaos after Lennon’s wedding and Grandfather’s death, but I refuse to allow that to be what they see today. There will be enough gossip to go around once I announce my marriage. Today, they see us mourn together. They see our strength. They see our acceptance. Whether they realize it or not, today is the first act of my reign. My first step into modernizing our centuries-old monarchy.
Archbishop Calder climbs the stairs to the pulpit, with Linley and Mayson standing side by side on the dais until we all sit. Calder looks out over the hundreds filling the abbey before meeting my eyes. “It is in grief and with profound thanks we gather in this house of God to celebrate the life of a man who lived his life in service to his lord and his country...”
Choirs sing, and preachers of all denominations speak. Multiple eulogies are given, and I feel eyes on me the entire time. It’s different this time than when we buried my mother. Easier in some ways, more painful in others.
It’s hard not to think about the fact that one day my son or daughter will be sitting where I am right now, with this weight on their shoulders.
I pray I do as good a job preparing them as has been done for me.
And at the end of the ceremony, we’re all reminded that nothing in this world is forever.
Nothing but love.
Archbishop Calder’s voice cracks as he brings us to our feet.
“Now let us remove all symbols of power from the coffin, so that Frederic may be committed to the grave as a humble servant.”
It’s the only time in my life I’ve heard my grandfather’s name used in public without his title.
Because it no longer belongs to him.
The golden staff of the office of the king is the first to be removed from the casket, followed by his jeweled scepter, and finally the coronation crown, which is placed in my hands.
A plain, cream cloth covers the casket, and Lennon takes my hand in hers, squeezing so tightly, she cuts off my circulation.
