My good King Mael.
The King is a complex character with a gentle soul. He is the baddie by default. Bless him!
He was born into a time of great confusion, during harsh times and a civil war.
As heir, the King takes the throne at the death, or abdication, of the present reign.
Mael has to cope with the grief of losing not only his father, King of Dagda Mead, but also his mother.
They have died in mysterious circumstances and magic is the prime suspect.
The new King, Mael, is crowned at just seventeen, he has no wife as yet, and the previous Kings team of advisors are all still reeling at the death of their previous monarch.
He was a fair man, and also very strong and dedicated. He was humble, always giving credit to his wife, the Quene, for being such a unique and well adjusted ruler. His greatness, he once said, was due to the sheer will, strength and intelligence of the woman he loved, he owed his life to her. He had told Mael that the people of Dagda Mead should always see where their Kings strength was drawn.
Mael, himself without a wife, has his fathers words playing on repeat in his mind as he readies himself for his coronation:
“The crown would weigh heavy on Mael’s young head and shoulders.
He knew his role for the days order, and he would play it, he would play it well.
But he also knew that playing it is what he would be doing. In his gut, deep down, he knew it was going to be a hard act to follow, after all, it wasn’t an act where his father was concerned; it was his life, his love, his duty and beyond.
Mael worried constantly he would not do his father justice.
How he longed to have his mother by his side, her pride would be overflowing. She would hide her sadness and own grief for the passing of the man she loved, in exchange for power and grace for her son, as he took the seat as head of the kingdom.
But his mother wasn’t by his side.
Her body lay cold in her grave beside his father.
The two of them watching him in spirit.
Mael took a moment to meditate on his proceedings. Something his father had taught him to always do.
‘You can’t rule a kingdom by the seat of your pants! Gut instinct alone isn’t good enough. The mind is power, the soul is wisdom and the body merely the vessel to work from.`
His father had plenty of advice for Mael. He always thought there would be more, and for years to come. Sadly, he was wrong.
He was seventeen. What did he know?
He stood and looked at himself in the long mirror in the dressing parlour which adjoined the council suite. He was tall and broad, quite imposing.
The hair on his chin let him down slightly; not enough.
He practised his stare. Focused, intense.
‘Kings must have penetrating eyes. They need to look as if they can see everything.`
If the kingdom of Dagda Mead were not at war with magic, would the new young king now be standing before an earth rapture for courage instead of a reflection of his own nervousness?
Would the inspirational Awen not be here beside him, helping him through this tough and emotionally charged time of his life.
Would the young King, the new King, not have all the necessary help here, at his side, advising and encouraging him; using every possible resource?
Without argument he would. They would all be here in force, a team of magical creatures advising and tending to him for the good of all the land.
Of course, wouldn’t his parents still be alive and ruling beside each other, with Mael outside hunting and frolicking instead? Instead of being here right now in a ridiculously heavy purple cloak, grieving the loss of his parents, the loss of his princely childhood. With the fear of facing a representation of the people who also felt lost, alone and scared, stretched out before him.
He drew back his shoulders, inhaled deeply and out with force. Stared at his own young face and told himself ‘It’s time to take on the world Mael.`”