Chapter Text
~ Prologue ~
♚♔♚♔♚♔♚♔♚♔
In the silence, the sounds of muted activity buzzed around the solitary figure staring out the window.
There was the sound of his Head Butler, Mitaka, shuffling about to ensure his black Burberry tailored suit was perfectly pressed, and that the grey-chequered pocket square was an exact fabric match to the similar sombre coloured tie.
There was the sound of his household staff scurrying about, ensuring that everything essential was neatly packed into his luggage and transported to the Royal helicopter currently sitting in the middle of the palace grounds.
There were the quiet murmurings of his Private Secretary, Sir Armitage Hux, going over the schedule for the upcoming days ahead.
There were sounds of round-shaped ice cubes clinking against the Waterford Crystal tumbler filled with single-malt whiskey.
The sound unheard amidst all the activity was the fracturing of the heart of the tall, dark-haired man who stood by the window in the black Burberry suit and grey pocket square, drinking the crystal tumbler of single-malt whiskey, watching preparations to start the helicopter, while barely listening to his Private Secretary.
“Your Highness,” the pale ginger-haired Irish man,with green eyes and a pinched face, asked softly. “The success of the transition will rest on your shoulders. Do you think you are ready to bear the weight of the crown?”
The Prince of Wales, Benjamin Lucas Charles Organa-Solo from the House of Skywalker, stared out the window as a light drizzle of rain pelted the glass, slightly blurring the vision of the palace grounds before him. His large, slightly shaky hand, brought the tumbler to thick, flesh-coloured lips. His wavy dark-brown hair rested just above his shoulders, covering the peaks of his over-sized ears.
A rain cloud covered the sun, casting a slight shadow over his handsome, pale, elongated face with aquiline nose and a scattering of beauty marks. His golden-brown eyes, slightly red with repressed tears, narrowed as memories flashed before his mind.
Decades of moulding and training. Fleeting moments of freedom, ripped away by paparazzi or expectation. Prolonged moments of extreme loneliness mixed with holidays filled with family and extreme happiness. The joy of meeting everyday people serving their everyday lives with dignity countered with days of endless boring government meetings. Pomp and circumstance inherited from ancestral traditions blending with earnest attempts to modernise, all to ensure longevity of an institution that was expected to exist beyond his time on Earth.
He thought about his Grandfather, King Consort Anakin, who was forced to resign due to mental health issues, living the rest of his life in spiralling madness, while his grandmother, Queen Amidala, stood unequivocally by his side with grace and dignity. He thought about King Regent Benjamin Kenobi, who served his family in proxy power with a calm and steady hand, until his underage uncle could take his rightful place upon maturity. He thought about his Uncle, King Luke, who renounced his responsibilities shortly before he came of age to serve a higher religious calling as a Priest for the Church of England, thrusting his family from tranquil obscurity with imposing responsibility.
He thought about his father, Han Solo, the Duke of Edinburgh, who spent his entire life in the shadows of his mother, forgoing his career and his last name to hold a ceremonial position, and the strain that put on him as a husband and father.
He thought about his mother, Her Majesty, Queen Leia, who accepted the role thrust upon her with dignity, grace, and a profound sense of duty at a cost far greater than could ever be measured, namely the cost of being the kind of mothers that his peers got to enjoy that he only experienced in fleeting moments and vacations throughout his life.
Finally, his mind thought of Rey. The woman from nowhere, who shook the foundations of his life in the best way possible, challenging and loving him with equal determination.
He placed his tumbler down on the table, and turned to look towards Hux.
“Heavy is the head who wears the Crown,” he replied carefully. “I know what I have to do, but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.”
“Right then. If I may, sir?” Sir Hux replied.
“Go on.”
“The country will be looking to you to lead, and I don't wish to imagine the pressure that comes with that responsibility,” he paused. “But you must know that you are not alone. Your entire staff is with you, as are those closest to you. Don’t be afraid to lean on us, and most importantly, to lean on her. She’s stronger than both of you know.”
In the silence, they departed, the sounds of footsteps echoing along the ancient wood floors of the palace.
In the silence, they crossed the palace grounds, the whirl of the helicopter blades cutting through the air.
In the silence, he boarded the helicopter as a Prince to the salute of his staff.
In the silence, as the helicopter rose into the air, he reflected that in a few short hours, he would be King.
Heavy is the Crown.
♚♔♚♔♚♔♚♔♚♔
Revolutionaries wait
For my head on a silver plate
Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh who would ever want to be King?
~ Viva La Vida by Coldplay