Pathetic Fallacy
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Chapter One
Pathetic Fallacy is a funny thing.
Occasionally, the world will listen to the moods of its inhabitants. When a bunny dies, the skies will often cry. The birth of a butterfly is usually greeted with radiant sunshine.
But sometimes, the worst of times, nature can be cruel. The emotions of the day will juxtapose the world around it, spreading a false sense of feeling to those who are unaware of events taking place elsewhere.
The bright, beautiful sunshine of July 12th just so happened to be one of those cruel days.
The news would spread quickly, all of the castles courts knew, but it only seemed right to leave the young prince alone with the body of his newly dead mother - if only for a few moments.
The death of a Queen… She’d been ill for some time. At first, only small coughing fits would affect her days, but before long she fell victim to spasms and fits. When her legs succumbed to numbness she was advised to keep it hidden, but she had been adamant about her honesty to the people of her kingdom. She was aware of the weakness it showed, but she’d always seen the best in people - including the rulers of the surrounding countries, whom she considered friends. Even when she was officially bedridden, she ruled with a calm and kind hand.
To many, it was merely the death of a Queen. To many more, it was the death of a friend. To only one, though, it was the death of a mother.
Roman couldn’t fathom the brightness of the outside while he felt so dark within. Even with every curtain drawn, and every torch put out, the sunlight prevailed and pushed through every tiny crack it could find, as though to say, “Dear Roman, everything will be alright. Happiness will prevail,” just as his mother had said each time he had cried as a child. But how could it?
Knelt beside his mother's bed, clutching her feather-light sheets, Roman couldn’t help the moaning sobs that fell past his lips in endless waterfalls, drenching the sleeve of his mother's arm beneath him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat like this. Not long enough to have been pulled away, not yet, but long enough that his knees ached against the cold stone floor under him. His eyes burned, a never-ending river still running from the blue pools they held. His stomach rolled with nausea and his brain seemed to be pounding against his skull…
How could happiness prevail when the very embodiment of the word lay cold in her bed?
As time passed, Roman began to calm. His shaking slowed, and he became quieter with every passing moment. He wasn’t happy - far from it - but at some point, a person must run out of tears. For a prince, that moment was required to be fast.
He listened attentively to the room around him, choking back the remaining whimpers in his raw throat. He could hear the near-silent mumbling of the staff near the doors, the awkward side-steps of the guard behind him. They were all waiting for their next orders.
Roman took a slow, deep breath through his nose. He could still smell her in this close proximity, but the life behind her flowery scent was gone… As though a forest fire had snuffed out every bloom.
It was time.
The prince stood, blinking away the last of his tears. There was no time to mourn. The time had finally come to take action, and he knew that now the orders must come from him. He would plan the funeral, large and befit of the beautiful life it would celebrate, but soon after there would be a coronation.
With a final look at her beautiful, peaceful, sleeping face… He knew.
It was time for Roman to become King.
***
“Thomas! Get down from there, silly!”
“Never!” the boy yelled from his perch in the large oak tree. His brown hair danced across his forehead, nearly touching his bold brown eyes.
Grinning up at him, his father noted that the boy desperately needed a haircut. “Thomas, we’ll be late! C’mon, please?”
“Fine,” he sang, recklessly jumping down one branch at a time.
Laughing, Patton added, “Don’t rip your trousers! Those are your good pair, son.”
“I know, Papa!”
Patton landed on his feet with a heavy thump, not a scratch in sight. He grinned up at his dad proudly, showing off the gap in the front of his otherwise toothy smile. Though Patton couldn’t afford to give Thomas his well-deserved coin for the missing fang, the boy didn’t seem any less happy than any other day. Patton felt grateful to have such a mature, understanding nine-year-old as a son.
“Ready to go?” Patton asked.
With a hum of confirmation from the boy, the two set off. The walk to the castle wasn’t long, but they were planning to stop at the blacksmiths' shop along the way. Afterall, Mr.Thatch had promised to buy Thomas a balloon on the way to the parade!
Thomas stopped many times along the dirt path, picking white carnations and hydrangeas for the flower crown he was creating along their way.
“Papa?” he asked once he was done, “Would you like a crown as well?”
Patton smiled brightly as his beautiful little boy. How cute Thomas looked, flowers sat askew across his tiny head. How could he turn down this wonderful child? “Of course, my starlight.”
Again, Thomas flashed his papa a grin. “Mr.Drake has been teaching me much about flowers, Papa!”
“Has he?” Patton smiled, listening attentively to his son. “Do tell.”
Thomas ran off to the side of the path once more. When he returned his hands were filled with flowers. His smile never faltered as he explained, “Chrysanthemums indicate a long life, and Hyacinth’s symbolize playfulness. These orchids represent exotic beauty, and roses are symbols of love!” With each flower he listed, he added them to the crown. The array of plants looked odd altogether, Patton had to admit, but the thought behind them made his smile glow as he leaned down to let Thomas place it on his head.
“Now we both have crowns, Papa!” Thomas exclaimed.
Nodding, Patton added, “Yes, and soon, so will Prince Roman.”
“King Roman!” Thomas shouted, fist thrown in the air with a gleeful laugh.
“Yes,” Patton chuckled, patting Thomas’ hair gently. “King Roman indeed. It is quite the shame the Queen has passed… But Prince Roman will be a fine leader, don’t you agree?”
Thomas nodded, jumping ahead of his father to walk backwards as they spoke. “Of course! He’s beat dragons and armies, nothing can stop him!” A mock battle took place as Thomas mimed a sword and shield, swiping at the air and jumping away from invisible danger. “He’s very nice too! Remember, Papa? Mr.Thatch says that Prince Roman is very nice!”
Patton nodded once more. “I remember,” he promised, chuckling at Thomas’ antic. “Careful, starlight. Watch where you’re headed.”
“Yes, Papa!”
***
Logan Thatch didn’t consider himself an aggressive man. In fact, he thought himself quite fair and logical. Every day he would sit through listening to his customer's demands, however annoying and ridiculous they may be, and he would work hard each night to try to finish the projects requested of him. If a mistake was made of his own fault, he offered discounts and partial refunds, and if his customers simply didn’t like their product he was always willing to redo their piece for an equal price.
He was always smart with his money, saving for needed equipment and food, as well as a little extra should he need it. His math skills weren’t the best, but the knowledge he had was enough to get by. Once a month he would splurge just enough to take a math or literacy class in order to further educate himself. His reading was greatly improving every day!
But still, Logan was smart enough to know that money was tight. Afterall, he wasn’t the most popular blacksmith in the small town - by far, he wasn’t the best. His customers came to him for cheaper prices, not higher quality.
So when Lyle Drake arrived at Logan’s shop, on the morning of the coronation no less, to inform the blacksmith of the rising price of rent, Logan was infuriated.
“Fifty coins?! Mr.Drake, you must know that fifty coins is an absurd amount?” In his outrage, he found himself getting nearer and nearer the other man, but Mr.Drake seemed entirely unaffected by Logan’s outburst. “Twenty was already more than I could afford, and now you ask fifty of me? Every month? That’s just illogical, and frankly, it isn’t going to happen. It can’t. I’ll barely be able to afford bread!”
Lyle Drake chuckled, finally taking a step back from Logan, who had gotten close enough to see the golden shine of Lyle’s eyes. Both men were tall, but Lyle’s six feet won out by just a few inches. He was slim, with think black hair beneath his silk top hat. Half of his face was covered in green skin and scales, the result of venomous snake bite as a child, and his clothes reflected his abundance of wealth. After All, the Queens tax collector and royal advisor was paid rather well.
“Mr.Thatch, or rather, Logan, the kingdom has reached dire times my friend! The Queen's funeral, and now Prince Roman’s coronation… Very expensive events indeed. Everyone is required to chip in.” He paused, grinning in response to the snarl he received from the blacksmith, before continuing, “Besides, his royal highness has been advised to collect money to build a proper shrine for his beloved mother, God bless her soul.”
“I wonder who advised that, Mr.Drake?”
“I haven’t the faintest what you’re implying, Logan.” The two faced man turned on his heel and began to walk away. Only seconds later he called over his shoulder, “I’ll be by in a week to collect your rent, Mr.Thatch.”
Logan wanted to scream. He wanted to punch that slimy man and wipe that stupid grin off his annoying face. He wanted to-
“Mr.Thatch!”
His murderous thoughts were interrupted by a pair of arms flung around his waist, squeezing in a friendly manner. It took him a moment to realize it was Thomas, a young boy who occasionally helped him around the shop in exchange for a loaf of bread.
“Mr.Thatch,” the young boy continued, releasing the man from his hug before looking up with a grin. “Look what Papa and I made for you!”
Logan smiled, gazing down at Thomas and the boys' outstretched hands. A flower crown made of aster, gladiolus, and lilac… “How beautiful. Thank you, Thomas.” Logan gently picked up the braided plants and placed them on his head. Normally such ridiculousness would annoy him, however, he found he could never say no to Thomas. The young boy was such a bundle of joy and delightful energy. And Thomas’ father… Well, Logan’s smile brightened more as he watched Patton descend down the path towards the blacksmiths' shop.
The father's face seemed to be flushed pink as he greeted Logan, and the blacksmiths face mimicked the shy greeting without fail as Thomas ran around them with loud exclamations of his excitement.
After all, it was coronation day.