GM MASS RP: He Who Would be King

He had stood by them all, waiting, anticipating, trembling- to hear the news, to hear who would be crowned King.  Through all the nerves, though all the struggles, the small victories, the losses, he had stood through it all, stagnant, solid, stoic.  But now, as Gerald spoke, everything within him trembled.  It took all of his strength to hold himself steady.  As the crowd rumbled, as the Lord of Families spoke those fateful words, it seemed the world stopped, the sound passing through his ears as if in slow motion.  ". . .our new King is to be Lord Rafe!"

A single exhale, a sigh of relief.  A sigh of sheer disbelief.  A high pitched ring droned in his ears, and Rafe turned to look out over the crowd before him, his herd.  His.  By Oganach's antlers. . . he had done it.

He had done it.

In those four words were more meaning than the stag could describe.  He'd done it.  He'd made it to the top, achieved that which he had thought unachievable, that which his father had said he could never have.  

Though he saw what was before him, none of it was coherent, until he felt warmth brush against his side, a calm voice reassuring that which he could not yet grasp. "All hail the King," Iminye murmured.  And with those words rushed the mass of voices, as the herd voiced their congratulations, and a few calls of triumph.  Taking it all in, his eyes missed few.

The whoop of exuberant joy that came from Riddick rushed through Rafe's ears, and a call of his own nearly joined it, and he certainly shared his eldest son's elation.  "Long live the King!"

The boom of Zoltan's laughter rolled through Rafe's supporters, the rare sound of joy from the stag elating the new King, and he felt his heart leap rapidly into beating hopefully.  Would the herd accept him?  From all sides, there were calls of "All hail the King!" In those voices were Carnarion, the roan lord whom he had so long ago chased.  Owain and Fionnuala were there also, and he saw the golden princess mouth words, her young son clinging to her legs.  And Adrian, the reserved cousin of his, whose muzzle simply broadened in a smile of success, one that Rafe soon mirrored.  Lorik was a mirror of the larger stag, dipping his head in acknowledgement of their victory.  However, Knox, nearby whooped with joy, a sound very similar to the one Riddick had not long ago loosed.

Nearby stood his harem, their faces alight as many of them realized that their children could be princes or ladies, sons and daughters of the new era of Glenmore, members of the royal family.  All of this he saw written on Anne's elegant golden features, and the tiniest of smirks twerked his lips.  Next to her, Asta, swollen with pregnancy and closely followed by her hoofmaiden, called "Long live the King!"

Next, his eyes moved to the supporters and followers of the other candidates, closely watching how they reacted to glean how he might be able to gain their favor, making a mental note to visit each as soon as he could.  Though there was hesitation, he saw no outward signs of defiance.  Lingering longer, his eyes glanced over his distant cousin, Alette and her betrothed Hrothgar, both of respectable blood and status.  The princess dipped  her head, and the Lord did the same, adding with it his own congratulations, their dappled hoofmaiden adding her own not far behind.  Not far to the side was young Weylin, a son of his supporters who had taken his chances with Donnaghan, and his own congratulations were added to the mix, though they were now lost in the sea of voices.  At the front of the crowd stood a stoic Solomon, though he offered no congratulations, he appeared content.  Rafe nodded.  He knew he liked the chestnut Lord for a reason.

Among the guards there were Caderyn, who called "Hail to the new King!" without much hesitation.  Lingering for a moment on the large, dark bay, he considered the fact that he would soon need to appoint a new Captain, a true Captain.  With those thoughts he turned to look at the pale Guard whom had more recently pledged his allegiances, Lunemyr, a valuable asset, despite his pale coat.  He'd been proud to achieve his support, and to find that he remained loyal to the traditions of Glenmore despite connections to those who had fled behind Drustan's tail.  Melark stood similarly nearby, though Rafe knew little of him besides that which he had heard from the gossip passing around the herd.  Rafe's gaze passed over Aeker as he swooped low in a bow, before turning to resume his duties.

There were many others that added their congratulations among the royals and the commoners, a few of those he noted, though he didn't recognize many of the lower class, he knew the circles they traveled in.  From Lady Ysbal, came "All hail the new King.  May he live and prosper."  From Elinor, a doe in Knox's harem, was a bow.  A pale commoner caught his eye, though the doe gave no reactions.  And he only caught a glimpse of the pelt of Huisha, a previous member of Drustan's counsel as he slipped away through the crowd. . .

And finally, he turned to his fellow candidates, though what he expected from them he wasn't completely sure.  There was only one reaction he watched closely, the others fading into the background.  Donnaghan was in utter disbelief of what had occurred, it was evident in the widening of his eyes, the shakiness of the bow that proceeded his outward acceptance of the news.  The newly crowned King could not deny that he found satisfaction in the reaction, for under his rule and reign, those charged of crimes would face appropriate punishment for his actions.  Donnaghan, and those surrounding him now, were all in limbo, their ranks and positions now suspended until he could make a decision.  Nuala. . . the princess who had been wrongfully claimed back by the Exiled Prince, stood behind him, a shell of a doe, the feathers that used to adorn her being long gone.  And his does, Ylva, Magpie, the others. . . their hoofmaidens, like the one he saw in shock behind the group, would be unsure until he spoke.

And that was when it hit him.  His word was law.  His words now held power, true, just, and right.

And he stepped forwards, raising his head to the herd, wishing that his rack had not yet fallen from his head.  "Thank you," he began, scanning the mass of Glenmores before him.  "Thank you, Glenmore.  As I promised those who swore fealty to me at the beginning of these trials, I now promise to all of you:  there is a brighter future ahead of us, one free of the changed that we had forced upon us.  I have a plan for Glenmore, I have a vision to restore it to the glory it once held.  I promise all of you, that together, we will restore Glenmore."