The Kronborg Chronicles: A Sister’s Mission

     A Grey Draik wearing a grey version of the uniform of Meridell’s Draik Guards landed next to the door of the royal carriage, opened it, and let down the step. Both Jeran and Tor reflexively bowed as King Skarl emerged. Annabelle, however, did not curtsey. She had never been in the habit of curtseying to either of her brothers, and she did not plan to begin now. Normally she would greet them with the offer of either a handshake or a hug, as the situation seemed to warrant. On this occasion, however, her plans instantly changed. She was taken aback by Skarl’s appearance. She had known in theory that the curse had turned him grey, but she had to suppose that, on some level, she had not fully registered what that meant until the moment she saw him descend from his coach. His normally vibrant scarlet robe was now a dusty red. His glossy azure scales and brown hair were instead both a dull grey, devoid of any glow of health. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, as if he had been crying the entire flight home from Faerieland, and his ears (though he was clearly trying his best to hold them upright) had a noticeable droop. She clasped her hands to her chest and felt tears spring instantly to her eyes.

      “Skarl, brother,” she cried, “What has happened?”

     Skarl’s eyes snapped onto her, only just now registering her colourful presence in his now nearly colourless kingdom. “What are you doing here? Go back to Brightvale where you’re safe!”

      “Is that the kind of welcome I get after fighting with Hagan to be allowed to come see you?” Annabelle put her hands on her hips in a manner that she knew to be rather petulant, not that she particularly cared. “I assure you that he was quite as eager to shield me from any potential harm from this curse as you could be. I would not be denied, however. I know what is due to you, brother.” She relaxed her posture and softened the tone of her voice. “I know what is due to you, but I want to know what I can do for you. I want to help you.”

      “How do you propose to do that, Belle? How can you possibly help me? I’ve tried everything I can think of. A few hundred paint brushes were insufficient to turn me blue again, and I went through a whole bar of soap trying to scrub the grey off. Unless you know some other way of turning me back to normal, I don’t know what else you hope to accomplish here.”

      “So that’s why you smell so strongly of soap,” teased Annabelle, though she quickly regretted it on seeing Skarl’s ears droop more. “We have our best and brightest minds in Brightvale trying to find a solution to the greying problem, Skarl, with my Roberta leading the efforts. In the meantime, I want to be of use to you. I can help try to boost morale, or I can perform any duties that you would rather not deal with right now. Have you received a summons from King Altador? Do you travel soon? I can help oversee the servants as they pack your luggage.”

      “Summons? What summons?”

      “Your Majesty!” One of the Draik guards at the entrance to the castle hurried forward, a Fire Yooyu perched on his shoulder. Annabelle saw a scroll much like the one Hagan had received clutched in his hand. “This Yooyu arrived with a message for you while you were away. I guess it’s the summons the princess is asking about.”

      “Give me that!” Skarl snatched the scroll from the Draik’s hand and hastily broke the seal. He scowled as he read, and Annabelle noted that it did not take him much longer to read it than it had taken Hagan. “So, Altador wants us all to go to his kingdom to talk about all this. I assume Hagan’s going?”

      “Yes, Skarl. As I left, he was giving his orders to the top admiral of his navy.”

      “Ugh, it really seems like such a bother to go all that way, though. Do I have to go too, Belle?”

     For a moment, Annabelle was at a loss for words. This was not like Skarl. She had expected him to say that if Hagan went, he would go too, if for no other reason than to remind the other nations that there was still strength in the Kronborg family, and that “that egghead brother of mine does not represent our House as a whole, and he definitely does not represent Meridell.” She asked him to see the summons, and he handed it to her. She read it twice over, using the time to choose her next words carefully.

      “Well, Skarl, as I understand it, one of the main points of this meeting is to talk about what’s happening to your kingdom. There is nobody so fitting to speak on your kingdom’s behalf as you. All you need to do is declare a state of emergency. When you are in Altador, by Meridellian law your Champion would effectively act as Regent, as he is understood to speak with the authority of the King in military situations when you’re not around. I’m sure Sir Jeran would be more than capable of holding down the fort in your absence.” When Skarl made no answer, Annabelle turned to Tor. “Sir Tormund, go find some reliable page and send them to the leader of His Majesty’s Navy. Have the page tell him to send word to the castle how quickly he can have his finest ship ready to sail for Altador.”

     Tor turned to Skarl, who simply shrugged, which Tor took as permission to proceed. Bowing to both of them, he turned and ran off. For her part, Annabelle assumed her best Cheat face, trying not to betray the panic she felt at Skarl’s lack of reaction to her blatantly usurping his authority. Suddenly, hers was no longer a mere research mission or friendly sisterly visit. It was a matter of utmost national importance to both kingdoms that she should attempt to bolster Skarl’s mood by whatever means necessary. While she had faith that Hagan would not attempt to take advantage of Skarl’s weakened state (though he might be momentarily tempted to reclaim his birthright), she worried that certain other nearby leaders would see a perfect opportunity to do so, and, given that Meridell was Brightvale’s closest military ally, instability in Meridell should be carefully avoided whenever openly giving aid to Meridell would not place a target on Brightvale.

      “Well, since you seem to enjoy arranging matters,” grumbled Skarl, “I’m going to go to my rooms. Jeran, have the kitchen staff send my dinner to me there.” Jeran bowed his assent, and Skarl left them alone.

      “Sir Jeran,” whispered Annabelle as soon as she was reasonably sure that her brother was out of earshot, “I am incredibly concerned for King Skarl. If it’s not too much trouble for you, ask the kitchens to send a little extra food, and an extra place setting, up to His Majesty’s chambers. I would like to dine with him, if he will allow me. I’ll take care of speaking to the proper staff to get my things placed in my usual room, if it’s available.”

     As she set about getting settled for her visit, Annabelle could not help but feel a strange sense of unease. Sure, the castle of her birth was familiar to her. She could navigate the twisting halls in her sleep, even though it had not been her primary residence in decades. Yet, the impacts of the grey curse rendered everything slightly unfamiliar. Normally the walls were of a light stone, further lightened with white paint, and hung with various portraits and tapestries that made the castle quite vibrant. Now everything was various shades of grey with occasional hints of subdued colour, and she felt that it was taking a toll on her own mood. Normally whenever she was here, she felt a sense of energy, but now even the air felt heavy and listless. As she unpacked a dinner gown from her bags and got ready to put it on, listening to the wooden thunk of wasters clashing in the courtyard below through an open window, she gazed at the portrait of the king that hung in every suite in the castle. Normally she had to make a conscious effort to remind herself that the image was of her brother rather than her father, but now there was no mistaking the Grey Skeith in the portrait for anyone other than King Skarl. She unpacked a lighter gown, washed and changed for dinner, then made her way to her brother’s suite.

     Meridell Castle’s Royal Suite was actually two stories, with a large room for entertaining below, then the bedrooms on the upper level. These days only one of the bedrooms, the main one, was in regular use. Annabelle never knew if Skarl was intentionally slighting her by always having her housed on the same level as the entertaining room but not in the royal suite itself (despite the fact that there was, as far as she knew, nothing preventing her from sleeping in her childhood bedroom), or if this was just her brother not even registering her wanting to be housed in the royal suite as a possibility, but she had always afforded her brother the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he just didn’t want her invading his privacy, which was reasonable seeing as she was technically usually here as a diplomat rather than purely as a sister. It was well-established, however, that she was the only foreign diplomat permitted to enter the entertaining room without Skarl’s express permission, so long as she sent a guard or servant upstairs to alert him to her presence. As such, Annabelle followed the two servants carrying the food and silverware into the suite and sent the senior one up to ask Skarl if it was alright if she joined him for dinner, while Annabelle herself supervised the junior waiter as he set the table, even helping him occasionally. Once the table had been set and loaded with food (which, she noted with dismay, had also turned grey), Anabelle dismissed both servants. She remained standing beside her chair as she heard Skarl descending the stairs. She often wondered exactly how much he must eat considering how many flights of stairs he had to walk up and down every day, and yet he was still obese even by Skeith standards. As he came into view, she decided that, after her insubordination earlier, the least she could do was bow her head to her brother.

      “Belle, why are you here?” Skarl still sounded dejected.

      “I wanted to dine with you, rather than dine alone in the Great Hall. I hope that’s alright with you.”

      “Why, though?” Skarl sat down and began helping himself to a turkey drumstick, some small spherical vegetables that Annabelle could only assume were peas, and some (presumably, based purely on the texture) mashed potatoes. “And where is the waiter?”

      “I dismissed the servants. I can help you to whatever you would like, and I thought that it would be nice if we could have a proper talk without any prying ears.” She sat, placed her napkin on her lap, and helped herself to the unappetizing grey food as she spoke. Before starting to eat, though, she leaned forward and tried to catch her brother’s eye. “Skarl, ever since we were children, you have always been the one I have turned to when I am scared. You are the strong one, the fighter, the one I can count on for safety. Today, though, you’re the one scaring me. Not because you’re angry, but because you’re sad. You’re not scaring me by fighting too hard, but by not fighting hard enough.”

      “There’s nothing to fight, though, Belle. This isn’t some physical threat that I can smack with my sceptre or my sword. This is some unseen force that is sapping every good thought out of this kingdom. Out of me. How do I fight that?”

      “I suppose you can start by fighting me. Twice today I have blatantly usurped your authority, and you have done nothing. Previously I would not have even thought to do that, for fear of you exiling me from Meridell immediately, or worse, locking me in the dungeons. At the very least, you should have rebuked me and reminded me whose castle this is.”

      “It’ll be yours again soon enough, probably,” muttered Skarl as he pushed his peas around his plate.

      “What do you mean by that, Skarl?”

      “I have no children, Belle. When my time as king is over, who will inherit Meridell? Hagan, if he’s still around then, or his son if not. And wherever they are, I know you’ll be there too.” Skarl scowled at his plate. “Neither one would be a good king of Meridell. They’re fine for Brightvale, sure, but Brightvale has always been weak. It’s all well and good to have read every book there is about swordsmanship, but until you’ve actually wielded a sword in battle, you can’t really know anything about the matter, and nobody who has will take you seriously if you pretend that you do.”

      “An interesting philosophical perspective, Skarl. I’m sure Hagan would debate that with you, were he here right now, but I’ll not debate it with you. You have been in battle, as I recall, during the Darigan War. You know what you’re talking about. Yet, as to your concern about the inheritance, you of all people should also know that in Meridell, primogeniture only applies if there is no written will or public proclamation naming another heir. Why do you not name another alternative? One of your lords or knights?”

      “What, and let the House of Kronborg be wholly uprooted from its native soil? Our forefathers built this kingdom, Belle, and I have worked almost my entire adult life just to keep it going. It has not been easy. Disease and famine hit at the same time, decimating our population. I tried to fix it, and just when I thought it had worked, war broke out. Twice.”

      “Did you know that the Orb belonged to Darigan?” Annabelle was relieved to hear some of Skarl’s fight returning and thought that maybe by pushing this sore subject a little more, she might see his usual personality continue to reemerge.

      “When I sent my knights out to find aid, I didn’t send them specifically to steal magical artefacts from other lands, if that’s what you’re implying, but when they brought it back, they did tell me how they got it. What does it matter, though? Spoils of war are fair game.”

      “Except you weren’t at war with them. At least, not at that time. Why did you not give the Orb back willingly, saying something about your knights misinterpreting your orders?”

      “What, and risk Meridell reverting to the poor state it was in before, or worse, end up like Darigan’s land did? I would not look good in purple and black, though to be fair I’d prefer it right now over this grey.” Skarl sighed and reverted to his previous melancholy mood. “Ever since turning grey, thoughts about those dark days of the famine and the plague have been filling my mind. Losing a quarter of my people. Losing my Ellie. We’d only been married a few years. When she was dying, I was thinking more about finding my next queen than taking care of the one I had. I needed to remarry as soon as possible in order to have an heir, but no other princess would have me. There’s obviously something wrong with me, and it’s probably too late now to do anything about it, even if I could figure out what it was. Then the wars broke out and damaged the land more, as well as my reputation. I know there are still plenty of people who are convinced that I’m a heartless villain, and sometimes I worry that they’re right. That I don’t deserve this crown.” Skarl put down his fork and bowed his head, avoiding eye contact with his sister. “I think it’s this colour making me have these thoughts. I need to turn blue again, but I don’t know how.” Skarl’s voice cracked as he added, “Nothing I’ve tried has worked.”

     Annabelle whisked her napkin off her lap, stood, and moved around the table to stand beside Skarl. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. Skarl sat in stunned silence for a moment, before giving in to his emotions and beginning to cry, gently at first, then racking sobs. Years of stress and anxiety, carefully hidden from everyone around him, were suddenly bursting forth in an uncontrollable tsunami of emotion. Annabelle gently lifted the crown from his head with one hand, though she was barely able to lift it in this manner. She had never been permitted to touch it before and had never really thought about how heavy a solid gold, ruby-encrusted crown must be. She set it on the table, then rested her chin on her brother’s head as she began to rock him gently. He wrapped his arms around her and continued to sob, though she sensed that lifting the physical weight of the crown from his shoulders had also relieved him of some of its emotional weight. When he calmed down, she released her grip on him and placed the crown back in his hands.

      “Belle, why did you take my crown off? You know that’s not really allowed.”

      “I just thought that it might be nice, if only for a few minutes, for you to not feel the weight of the kingdom on your shoulders. Once in a while, you deserve an opportunity to not have to worry about being King Skarl the First of Meridell, and just be Skarl Kronborg. As king, I understand that you have to portray a certain image for your subjects, but behind closed doors, you need to be able to be a normal Skeith, albeit one who lives in a really big house and likes to wear pointy hats.” Annabelle felt that this was not her strongest attempt at humour, but Skarl laughed more heartily at that than he had at anything since turning grey. “Besides,” she added, “You’re the king, I figured that if it worked, you’d give me an official pardon for touching the crown without permission.”

      “And if it didn't work?”

      “Well, all I’d have to do is win the footrace to the nearest balcony, then I’d whistle for my mount and fly back to Brightvale. I might not be welcome back here, which would be a bit hard on me, but at least I’d know that I’d tried to cheer you up.”

      “And what makes you think you’d win the footrace?” Annabelle was relieved to see a slight hint of a smirk on her brother’s face and responded by playfully putting a hand on her hip.

      “I might be shorter than you, but I’m pretty sure my legs are longer.”

      “I can fly, though.”

      “First of all, that would not be fair. We specified a foot race, so flying would be against the rules. Second of all, can you still fly? Just between you and me, even Hagan’s having a little difficulty getting off the ground these days, and you’re not that much younger than him.” She thought it would not be entirely tactful, given Skarl’s current emotional state, to point out that Skarl also had a larger than average waist size and a smaller than average wingspan for a Skeith of his height working against him when it came to flight.

      “You can run, sure, but if I can get off the ground, there’d be nothing stopping me from flying after the treasonous little girl who touched my crown.” His face turned serious once more. “So, Hagan’s starting to feel his age too? I guess that makes sense, given that he’s now a grandfather. Yikes, that means we’re almost old enough to be grandparents.”

      “I know, it’s scary, isn’t it? Have you seen a picture of the little girls?” Skarl shook his head, so Annabelle grabbed her handbag and pulled out a smartphone, and with a few taps of the screen pulled up an image of three sleeping infants—a Pink Gelert flanked by two Green Acaras. “Isn’t this new technology incredible? I can carry around thousands of miniatures on a device about the size of a deck of playing cards. I hear you can also talk to people on them, but it can be so hard to get service in these two kingdoms that it’s often easier to just write a letter.” She placed the phone on the table next to Skarl’s plate. “The Gelert is named Cherise. She’s named after her grandmama, of course. And this one,” she pointed to the Acara on the left, “is little Annabelle. I’ve been calling her ‘Anna’ since I already have a claim on ‘Belle’ for myself. And this one,” she pointed to the Acara on the right and looked at Skarl, “is named Elliana.”

     Skarl started and turned to look at Annabelle. “Dona named a daughter after my wife? I think I’ve only seen her maybe five times in her life myself, and she never even met Ellie.”

      “True, but of course she was taught her aunt’s name and thought it would be nice to honour the three royal women of our generation. I may have encouraged this. I did love your Ellie, Skarl. Cherise too. All three of us Kronborgs had rotten luck in the marriage department. We were all widowed within a decade of our marriages.”

      “Do you still miss, what was his name, Phillip?”

      “Yes, I do still miss Phil. All the time. Our daughter Roberta reminds me of him so much. She has his magical ability, and often devises new battle scrolls to be sold in his old shop. Even after being named after a king, growing up in a castle, and getting a royal education, it turns out that she enjoys engaging in her father’s line of trade.”

      “I remember her, she helped us out during the Darkest Faerie incident. Fought off a trio of dark faeries with some help from one of my best knights.”

      “I’m glad you remember that because she told me afterwards that you stole her share of the credit for that. She was quite upset about it.”

      “I am a villain, aren’t I?”

      “To me, that depends on why you did it. If it was to prevent a Brightvalian from having any credit on principle or to prevent your knights from thinking you’d been useless in the fight, then yes, stealing your niece’s glory to increase your own was a horrible thing to do. If you did it because she’s a girl and Father taught you that girls shouldn’t fight, then I think that makes him the villain, though admittedly by your age you should know better than to just blindly follow where he led, so I would still be upset with you. If you knew or suspected that the knights who rushed in after the fight believed that girls shouldn’t fight and you were trying to protect Roberta’s reputation in your kingdom, then I’d say that you did the wrong thing for the right reason, and that soothes my maternal anger quite a bit. No matter what your reasoning, you owe her an apology and an explanation the next time you’re in Brightvale, if not by letter before then.”

      “An apology?”

      “Yes, Skarl, an apology. I know Father may have felt that a king owes nobody an apology for anything, and that he probably taught you that lesson, but I feel that an uncle does owe his niece an apology when he offends her. Again, you are more than just a king. You are also a brother and an uncle. If you want people to stop thinking about you as a villain, you need to not act like a villain, and you can start by giving your family the credit they have earned.”

      “I guess that makes sense, up to a point, but how will that get other people to not see me as a scoundrel?”

      “It probably won’t in and of itself if your actions are not public, but it will make you feel better about yourself. Your apology to Roberta at least should be private, or only in front of the family. Yet perhaps it will make it easier for you to give the other leaders credit for their own accomplishments, even when their methods are different from your own. You should also apologize to any other leaders you’ve wronged in the past, or at least not go out of your way to pick fights with them now. Stand up for yourself if they slight you, certainly, but don’t antagonize them. If you befriend them, they’ll be there to help you.”

      “You sound like Mother.”

      “That seems to be my job, at least here. In Hagan’s court, I represent the voice of Father, and in yours, I represent the voice of Mother. Though they, like you two, were essentially opposites in many ways, neither one was wholly bad. Father was more impulsive, often willing to take risks in the hope of achieving results, which may work well in a crisis but might also make things worse in the long run depending on which facts you don’t take the time to learn or heed. On the other hand, Mother was more cautious and wanted to make sure she had all the facts before acting, which is great if you have the time to do so, but sometimes in a crisis the luxury of time might be something you can’t afford. I’ve long felt that, if they had put aside their differences and been able to figure out which approach to use when, they would’ve been capable of doing greater things together than they ever achieved separately. It’s not too late for you and Hagan to give that approach a try.”

      “He won’t. I’m just his idiot kid brother. I’ve heard rumours that he’s said that I couldn’t run a bath, let alone a kingdom.”

      “If he did say such a thing, I doubt that he meant it,” Annabelle lied, knowing full well that Hagan had used those exact words to describe Skarl on at least one occasion, and (at least, at the time) had meant every word of it. Skarl didn’t need to know that right now, though. “And even if he had, I would argue that you have certainly proven him wrong. You have led Meridell through crises that he would’ve only seen in his worst nightmares, and the kingdom is thriving under your leadership. Or at least it was up until this curse hit. You should be proud of yourself.” Skarl shrugged, and Annabelle placed a hand on his shoulder. “When I was younger, I would’ve liked the thought of a humbler Skarl, but now that I’m seeing it, I want my arrogant big brother back. I’ll tell you what, I’ve read this in a book somewhere, every morning until you’re back to normal, I want you to look in a mirror and say something like, ‘I’m Skarl Kronborg, and I’m the greatest king Meridell has ever known.’”

      “That’s ridiculous. I’m not doing that.”

      “Suit yourself, but positive self-talk has been shown to help with a lack of self-confidence, which is what this sounds like. You should also consider doing it any time you’re alone and you’ve been struggling with thinking you’re inadequate or just have been having a stressful day. And make time to take off the crown and just be plain old Skarl once in a while. I don’t care if you beat the stuffing out of a training dummy, paint a picture, play an instrument, or just hide in your closet playing with Usukis. Whatever will bring you joy.” Skarl looked embarrassed, and Annabelle continued in a lower voice, “Hagan would probably kill me if he knew I told you this, so this does not leave this room, but since we all saw that Usuki photo of you in the tabloids several years ago, I suppose it would only be fair for me to share a potentially embarrassing thing Hagan does to de-stress. You see, he has a secret room in his castle where he keeps all manner of instruments from around the globe. I’m one of only three people who knows exactly where it is. I have occasionally heard him playing M*YNCI songs in there when I’ve gone to look for him.”

      “M*YNCI?” Skarl howled with laughter. “What, is he a twelve-year-old girl?”

      “Laugh all you want, King Usuki, but once he anonymously sent them a song that he wrote for them, and it became one of their biggest hits. His seneschal is still collecting the royalties from it on his behalf and depositing them in the royal treasury.”

      “Huh, not a bad way to get revenue, I suppose. How about you? Any embarrassing things you do when whatever pressures you have to deal with as a princess become too much?”

      “I know that what I deal with as a princess probably does not, on the surface, seem to equal what you two have to deal with as kings,” Annabelle replied, narrowing her eyes slightly, “but trying to keep you two from declaring war on each other over you stealing his biscuits or him knocking over your block castle when you were children does take its toll, I assure you. I don’t know if how I deal with it is as embarrassing as writing songs for a boy band or playing with dolls, but you might still find it a bit odd. You know I was never trained with weapons to the degree that you boys were, but the last birthday present Father ever gave me was this ornamental dagger.” She reached back into her handbag and pulled out a dagger in a leather sheath. Skarl couldn’t see the blade, but the hilt was gold with ruby and sapphire inlays, and taking it in his hands, he couldn’t help but be impressed with the craftsmanship. “I bring it with me everywhere, though I never openly carry it. When I’m feeling particularly stressed out, I have a dressmaker’s dummy at home, and I’ll just rip it to shreds with the dagger, then sew a new cloth covering for it once I’ve tired myself out. The sewing is quite meditative, and of course the exercise beforehand helps get out the negative energy.”

      “It does feel good to exercise when you’re stressed out, doesn’t it? It feels like you’re boiling over with energy that just has to go somewhere.” He pulled the dagger out of its sheath and continued to inspect it. “I don’t know which weaponsmith Father commissioned this from, but the craftsmanship is incredible. Do you sharpen it regularly?” Annabelle nodded, and Skarl turned it so that she could take the hilt back. Once she had, he stood and walked over to a closet. Annabelle pretended not to see the box of Usukis in the back of the closet as her brother pulled out a training dummy and positioned it in the middle of the room. “Mind showing me what you can do?”

      Epilogue

     Hagan stood on a balcony outside his quarters in Altador’s Hall of Heroes. His room was on the side of the building that got the most sun, and he appreciated the opportunity to bask in its warm glow before breakfast. I could get used to this climate, he thought as he closed his eyes and felt the warm sun on his face. There were only two downsides to his quarters here. The first was that it was much smaller than what he was used to in Brightvale. Having had to redesign the entire castle from scratch following a massive earthquake that had left its predecessor in ruins at the very beginning of his reign, he had given himself an incredibly large royal suite, to which this simple (though admittedly comfortable) bedroom simply could not compare. The other downside was that his next-door neighbour was his brother Skarl, whose snoring had been loud enough to be heard from Hagan’s room and had kept him up half the night.

     Hagan opened his eyes at the thought of his brother and glanced at Skarl’s balcony. Had I been in charge of designing this, he thought, I would’ve done it differently. There are bannisters separating the balconies, but these balconies are so close together Skarl and I would be able to shake hands across the gap. If I was a bit younger, I probably wouldn’t even need to fly to get over there, I could just climb on top of the railing and step across. Not particularly secure. One would definitely want to make sure the inhabitants of these rooms were, if not friendly toward each other, at least not outright hostile. Hagan heard the sounds of his brother rising for the day and decided to go inside rather than risk an awkward one-on-one conversation. Hagan wanted to offer Skarl some comfort, given Meridell’s current situation, but things had been so tense between them for so many years that he wasn’t sure how to do so without offending his younger brother. Hagan was about to shut the balcony door behind him when he paused, swivelling his ears toward the sound of his brother giving himself a pep-talk in his room.

      “I am Skarl Kronborg, and I am the greatest king Meridell has ever known! At least, that’s what my baby sister thinks, and I will not prove her wrong.”

      Should I tell him that I agree with Belle? Hagan shrugged and latched the door. No, I wouldn’t want to inflate his ego too much.

     The End.