The crown was heavier than Katherine expected.
Not physically—though its gold circlet pressed tightly against her brow—but in the way it clung to her spirit, dragging at her thoughts like an anchor. She stared at her reflection in the grand mirror of the royal chamber. The Queen's regalia fit her shoulders perfectly, yet she still felt like a girl playing dress-up in her mother's robes.
She turned away.
The sun was rising over the eastern towers, bleeding gold over the kingdom that now—by title—belonged to her.
The throne room was colder when empty.
Katherine stood on the dais, facing the long hall lined with marble pillars and violet banners. The throne sat behind her, tall and gilded, carved with centuries of kingship. She hadn't sat in it yet. Not since the coronation.
Her steps echoed in the silence.
"You're here early," came a voice from behind.
She didn't have to turn to know it was Sion.
"I couldn't sleep," she said simply.
He walked beside her, his coat half-buttoned and his eyes as sharp as ever. Unlike her, he never looked out of place.
"You're Queen now. That comes with insomnia."
Katherine offered a small smile. "You've been one of the most powerful men in the continent for years. You seem to sleep fine."
"I've learned how to fight sleep with guilt, doubt, and tea."
She gave a short laugh. It died quickly.
"They're going to expect everything from me, Sion. Strength. Wisdom. Mercy. Ruthlessness. And if I make one wrong step... they'll say I was never meant to rule."
He was quiet for a moment.
Then: "Then don't rule like they expect. Rule like you would."
She looked at him.
"That's what I'm afraid of."
The Council Meeting was her first test.
Twelve high-ranking nobles gathered around the long obsidian table. She recognized several from court—Lord Halstein, Duchess Merel, General Caivor—and each one bowed with measured grace. But Katherine saw it in their eyes: testing her. Calculating.
"Your Majesty," Halstein began, "in light of your recent appointment, we would like to propose a regency council. Temporarily, of course, to assist your transition."
She kept her face calm, her voice neutral.
"A regency? Am I wounded? Or incapable?"
The man hesitated. "No, Your Majesty. Only… inexperienced."
Katherine folded her hands on the table.
"Then let this be my first experience. Thank you for the suggestion. It is declined."
The silence that followed was thick as frost. Duchess Merel smiled behind her fan. General Caivor smirked faintly, as if amused.
Katherine continued.
"My first royal act is to reopen the Royal Aid Fund. Those harmed during the Ragnar attack will be compensated. Their medical and rebuilding expenses will be covered by the Crown."
Murmurs erupted. Lord Halstein's face tightened.
"That's a generous gesture, Your Majesty," Merel said, lowering her fan. "But the treasury is strained."
"Then we cut the unnecessary allowances," Katherine replied. "Starting with the banquet budget."
The council fell into silence again. Sion stood at the wall behind her, arms folded, not intervening. Watching.
Later that day, in the Queen's solar, Katherine paced the length of the floor, her heels clicking against polished stone. She could still feel the gazes of the council—doubt and diplomacy, support laced with silent threats.
The doors creaked. Her mother, Queen Elenora, entered quietly.
"You did well," she said.
Katherine stopped. "They already want to control me."
"They always will. You were never meant to be a puppet, daughter. That's why it must be you."
"I'm not a fighter like Sion. I'm not a tactician like father."
Elizabeth walked over and placed a hand on Katherine's cheek.
"You're you. And that's enough. But you must learn quickly. The crown has no patience for hesitation."
Katherine closed her eyes.
"Then I'll learn. And I'll rule… because someone must."
That evening, as twilight crept into the palace corridors, Katherine stood once more on the balcony overlooking the capital.
The people below moved like rivers of fireflies—tired, rebuilding, grieving. A kingdom that had nearly shattered in a single night.
Sion joined her again, silent for a while.
"You handled the council well."
"They want to test how far they can push me."
"And you didn't let them."
"I wasn't sure I could."
He leaned on the railing beside her, looking at the city.
"You did. And you will again. They'll try to rattle you—poke at your heart, your family, your rule—but if they think you'll break, they've forgotten who you are."
She smiled faintly, turning toward him.
"And who am I, exactly?"
He looked at her, no smile—just certainty.
"The only Queen this kingdom's ever needed."
For the first time since the crown touched her head, Katherine felt something flicker in her chest—not dread, not duty—resolve.
Far away, in a hidden chamber buried beneath ruined stone, the Seer traced symbols in ash.
"She walks with the sun behind her now. Let us see… if she shines when night truly falls."
The gate beneath him pulsed once—slow, steady, and ominous.