Alexanderia awakens from the aftermath of the battle with Bellavere. As people return to the kingdom proper, they roll up their sleeves, ready to return to the new normal. Some carry on without beloved family members. Rebuilding a new life as they grieve. Businesses who supported the armies, now switch to domestic and trade priorities. Its as if the kingdom suffered an injury; requiring stretching before it’s ready to fully run again. Each day is progress. Like the doctors say: one day at a time. Despite the aged counsel, she can’t help but feel like the world around her is moving forward. That she’ll somehow fall behind.

Still, she’ll cherish Beckham’s dumbstruck expression when he awoke one morning to see her not only alive but sitting on the throne. When ever her body aches or she tires too easily, she remembers it. Her mere existence ruined his plan, and its this pettiness that motivates her onward. The worst part of recovery is the waiting. Her muscles itch to dance, walk, and sway but they protest as she goes about her tasks.

But it isn’t only her physical body that struggles, her magic does to. She’s only managed the simplest of manipulations since the fight with Kipling. Eclipse tells her its normal and she’ll be at full strength in time. But she sees the wound healing, the cuts fading, but her magical ability doesn’t improve. Despite his reassurance, she wonders if she will ever use Ceraphim magic again? Or is this a punishment from Zander himself for her disobedience.

As she wanders the halls, testing her limits, she finds herself near her father's study. She hasn't entered it since his death. In fact, she thought she ordered it locked but finds it left ajar. Her fingers touch the familiar brass; summoning childhood memories to flood over her. Faint giggles and fantastical stories whisper from the past. She steps into the room half expecting her father sitting on the chair with the night's story already on his lap. But instead, she spies a grey balding head sitting in the plush green chair opposite the desk.

Peering over his shoulder she spies a decorative blue box in his hands. His callous fingers fiddle aimlessly with it. He stares out the wide picture window, oblivious to her presence. The space and memories layer on-top of themselves. Carefree childhood moments sink under the weight of endless fighting and bickering. She thought that if she locked the door and moved her office somewhere else, the memories will fade. And they did, but not forever. She sees it hanging over him as well. A lifetime of laughs, of joy, and friendship; all sequestered to this one room.

“Lex?”

“Your Majesty?” he moves to stand, but his body fumbles. “I’m sorry to trespass.” He mumbles as he returns to the seat.

“No apologies needed; I am the one who’s interrupting.”

“Did you know most of my memories of Allan take place in this room?”

“It doesn’t surprise me, considering he practically slept on that couch.”

“But we had good times here. We laughed, we yelled and got on each other’s last nerve. But you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He touches his lips and glances away.

“We fought too,” she sits in the seat beside him, “I spent my life hating him.”

“He loved you, my dear. In his way, he did. He said terrible things in the past, but I know he regretted them until his last breath.”

It’s a small comfort, she tells herself. At least he recognized his ugly behavior, but it’s all too late. She fights the catch in her throat. Lists of what ifs flood over her. The loudest tightens around her chest. What if they reconciled years ago? Will today be strangely different? Her coronation is upon her. And he isn’t here. He made his choice though. Unfortunately, in the end, it’s she who has to live with its repercussions.

“I can’t forgive him… not yet.”

“I won’t ask that of you. Hatred and keeping score marred Kipling’s life. I hope, one day, you allow forgiveness into your heart.” She stares at the metallic box wedged in his plump fingers. His lips mouth silent words, but the longer he contemplates it, the more it piques her curiosity. “His last night he made me make two promises. I failed to uphold one of them. But I won’t fail him a second time.”

He hands it too her; it’s coated with blue satin and gold trim. She lifts the stiff lid and discovers a beautiful ruby set in a gold band. Plucking the ring from the blue velvet she squints to read an inscription written in Umarian.

Her body shudders as she reads the familiar words of her family’s motto. In whatever we do, we rule with a gentle hand and a sharp mind. Kipling mocked the motto as her father died. But she’s overcome with pride knowing she’ll prove to him that a gentle hand doesn’t mean ruling in cowardice. She removes the envelope with her father’s wax seal. Realizing it’s the last time it will belong to him.

My Dearest Daughter,

You will be called many names throughout your life. Your inferiors will call you Your Majesty. Your enemies will call you Madame Mage. Your lover will call you theirs, and I will always call you my daughter. With these many titles, it is easy for your identity to slip away. I left behind this ring to remind you of the proud family you come from; a family that loved you the moment you were granted life.

Tonight, you made me promise to return to you, but I beg your forgiveness one day. For it is a promise I cannot keep. I wish to witness you step into this strange world of jewels and demands. I wish to watch you become a great queen and rule Alexanderia with the grace, beauty, and the steadfast will your mother possessed, and which I lost over time. I regret not telling you I love you more often. I regret not being there when you needed me the most.

For all that and much more, I am truly sorry. If you choose to take the advice of a broken man, take this: never let someone break you. It is your character and integrity that scares them. In turn, it is those qualities that set you apart. Therefore, you must remain as you are, my daughter, the light of my life, my gift from the Gods, and my last gift to Alexanderia.

Her chest swells, her breath hitches, and precious memories long forgotten rise from its buried depths. The tears threaten her eyes. They refuse to be ignored and banished like the hundred times before. Rejuvenated by his words, they ebb and flow over her. It’s the first time she realises she shares more with him than she thought. The same fears of losing herself, resided in him as well. Her heart aches, she lost the one person who could understand. The only one who could guide her. He left, he’s gone; and her loneliness washes over her again.

“I was remembering the last time I sat in this chair speaking to your father. He was so tired, exhausted, and beaten. But he always had hope.”

“I must confide in you,” she doesn’t know why, but the words tumble out. “when I was… you know… I saw something.”

“Like a vision?”

“I was brought before Alona herself. She told me that my mother was in Paradise.”

“Praise her,” he smiles as tears well in his eyes. She fights her own sobs as his throat chokes on his next words; “and Allan?”

“They are together at last.” One of the strongest men she’s known crumbles in a weeping mess. They lose their composure, allowing the tears to roll over their faces. The pain and loss wrack their bodies. When its over, she’s exhausted but the chaos swirling inside simmers. He takes a deep breath and collects himself. “I rehearsed this… I don’t know how many times.” He folds his hands resting them on his stomach. “But I must be frank, I dedicated my life in service to the crown but I am… tired.”

“Lex—”

“I worked hard my whole life. Earned every medal and honour I received. But now it is time I retire with the same dignity I sought to uphold throughout my lifetime."

“But you have a few more years—”

“Please, allow me to depart with my honour. I grow weary of this soldier’s life. I’m old Moira and it's time for me to step from my golden stage.” His words hang in the air; without him the sense of security his presence offers evaporates. It’s like losing her father all over again. “I hate to leave you like this.”

“No,” she dismisses his words with a wave of her hand. She can’t be selfish, he of all people deserves a quiet peaceful life. “It’s nonsense. You served the crown with nothing short of exemplary service. And you deserve its rewards.” She smiles despite her breaking heart, “please, Lex, you needn’t worry about me.”

“I will always worry about you; you are dear to my heart since you first came into this world.”

“It will be hard to adjust without you at my family’s side. But I promise to use what I learned from both you and my father and lead Alexanderia into a brighter future.” Her father’s last sentiment clings to her heart. Its her future now. Its her time to make her mark and give her people a monarch they can be proud of.

“There is no doubt in my mind that you will succeed.” He smiles a fatherly smile. “I’ll carry on until the celebrations are over.”

“Of course, General. I wish you the best and good luck. Alexanderia thanks you for your service, but please visit.” She hopes her words didn’t sound as desperate to him as they did to her.

“Did you want to know my recommendation for my replacement?”

“No General,” she smiles, “there’s no need to state the obvious.”

The door creaks open, and Eclipse’s furry face appears. As Lex dismisses himself, she wipes the last wayward tear hoping he won’t notice.

“I expected this.” His words summon another tear to the surface. The last reliable person from her past walks away. Her greatest fears are a reality; she’s finally on her own. The old guard is gone. The torch passes to her. And the truth sinks in:

“Eclipse…today… I will be queen…”

“That is the plan. Come, Your Majesty, there is paperwork to sign and Lords to infuriate.”

Lex extends his callous palm to help her from the carriage. She steps to the cobblestones with the crowd’s cheers ringing in her ears. He surveys the crowd while assistants fan her golden cloak over the Cathedral steps. The arches tower over her, reminding her of the splendor of the Gods and the beauty of creation. The gargoyles, with their twisted snarls, mock her. But the burst of joy from the crowd numbs her. Last time she saw them, she was marching with their men to battle. They cheered then, but this is different. Their joy and excitement rival the energy from the sun. It flows over her, ignites something in her heart, and whispers; this is where she belongs.

“All this reminds me of your parent’s wedding day. Everyone is happy, and the future is bright.”

“Forgive me, but earlier you said my father made you promise him something. But you disobeyed him. What was it?

“He begged me to keep you from fighting Kipling, but I broke it. The only order I refused to carry out.”

“Why didn’t you stop me? Of all people I suspected you to.”

“The thought crossed my mind. But we needed you. More importantly, the people needed to see you. If they don’t make you a part of their lives, if they don’t fear you, they’ll not care for you.”

“I don’t want my people to fear me,” she waves at the smiling crowd.

“Don’t strike terror in their hearts but let them know you have expectations. And there are consequences for their actions. They saw your strength as you defeated their nightmare. They know that if you can destroy Kipling, you can destroy them.”

“That’s awful.”

“It’s an important concept as a monarch. Don’t take advantage of them though. It’s a delicate balance. Always remember there are more of them and only one of you.”

His words follow her as she enters the Cathedral which feels lighter than at her father’s funeral. The weight of her future smothered her soul as she trailed behind the casket. But as she touches her father’s ring, she finds the courage for the next step. Gazing upon the heavenly statues surrounding the altar, she recalls the conversation with Alona. I gained his interest. Zander’s statue looms over the congregation but she approaches without hesitation; daring Him to stop her.

He brought her here; her whole life leading to this moment and she’s determined to see it to the end. To His end. She senses Eclipse in the audience, she hopes he knows she isn’t afraid anymore. The girl Zack pulled from the balcony is kept in check; no longer hidden but challenged every day. By embracing her light, she’ll dispel the shadows and give Sara and her people the life they deserve. The Archbishop motions for her to kneel before the altar to surrender to the Will of the Gods and Their divine purpose. As rehearsed, she does as he instructs and the murmuring crowd falls silent.

“Madame Mage are you willing to take the Oath?” His deep voice booms from the altar.

“I am willing.”

“We are first and foremost Children of the Gods; we surrender to their laws and judgement. Do you solemnly swear and promise to uphold these beliefs, act with mercy and obedience in all you do?”

“I solemnly swear and promise to do so.”

Making the sign of the Gods over her head he prays: “We come and go, we live, and we die, but the elements are constant. They are and will always be forever.” She stands and faces the crowd, spying Sara smiling in the front row beside Eclipse. Zack and Lex, although professional in their military capacity, nod and reveal an approving grin. The archbishop presents her with the gold crown decorated with rubies and pearls. It shines as light from the stained-glass windows beam in the immense cathedral. “Do you solemnly swear and promise to rule Alexanderia and its people according to their laws and customs, keeping to their character and integrity, when it is right to do so?”

“I solemnly promise to do so.”

“Will you use your power to execute merciful Law and Justice in all your Judgement?”

“I will.”

“By the power invested in me by The Holy Parents, I crown you Her Majesty, Moira Alexis Avalon, Queen of Alexanderia. May the Gods gaze brightly on your reign.” As the spectators’ cheer, Chris appears in the aisle in the back of the cathedral, grinning his mischievous grin.