Long live the King.
Logan pulled in a deep breath as he stood uncomfortably still, watching the crowd with a certain nauseating feeling in his stomach. All these eyes on him, waiting to watch him be crowned King of Albion. How.. wonderful.
It wasn’t something just spontaneous, he knew it was coming. Now that the day was here, he was at complete battle with his emotions. And he didn’t even realize he had been spoken to. What did they say- Who said it? He had not an idea, as his eyes were too busy wandering the crowd, and his body was too busy keeping as stiff and straight as possible. Although it wasn’t like it would kill him if he wasn’t standing straight.
It wasn’t until he felt the cool metal of the crown being placed upon his head that he snapped out of the state, and into the eyes of Walter. This was it. The country was his, just a sentence away and it was all his.
"Do you solemnly swear to protect Albion for as long as you live?"
"I swear.”












