Marching On

Lavin looked out the window of the black limousine as it rolled along Toldbodgade, counting the trees as they passed. She rubbed the smooth cotton fabric of her black dress and tried to focus on the quiet Mozart piece that the driver was playing.

Although she tried not to notice them, there were crowds of people lining the street; with the vehicle moving slowly as it was she could see that groups of people were holding each other as they mourned, and there were a few people passing out white candles to everyone.

Some were holding pictures of King Fredrick. Others were holding signs that read GOD SAVE THE QUEEN.

Those signs sent shivers of deepest anxiety through Lavin's entire body. She would now forever more be known as Queen Lavinia I of Denmark.

The vehicle turned left once onto Holbergsgade which was the final length of their journey from Amaliensborg Palace to the chapel of Christiansborg Palace. This was the first of two funeral ceremonies.

Fredrick's body had been laid out in Christiansborg chapel for the last six days so that the public could pay their respects, but today only Lavin's family and friends would occupy the church.

"We're almost there," Alex muttered under his breath.

Lavin turned to face him, giving him a small smile before giving his hand a squeeze. This was Alex's first experience with death of a close relative and he was handling it as well as a prince was expected: eloquently and solemnly.

The limousine came to a stop and through the windshield she could see her grandparents, aunt and uncles, and mother stepping out of an identical limousine.

All were dressed in black, but her mother was most identifiable with her stooped shoulders and slow gait. She hadn't spoken since the night Fredrick died.

The limousine containing her brothers, cousins and Lavin pulled forward and almost immediately a draft of cool July air filled the backseat; goosebumps covered her legs.

Peter and Gen stepped out first, following her brothers, and then, finally, it was Lavin's turn.

She slid over the warm leather seat and placed her black high heels firmly on the pavement. The air smelled of rain, and as she stood she could see dark clouds looming over Christiansborg.

Lavin felt an arm wrap through hers; she looked and saw that it was Alex. It was then that she first heard the sound of hundreds of exploding camera shutters.

"Cameras?" Alex asked, turning to look behind him.

Lavin also turned. She could see men being withheld by ropes and police. Their faces were obscured by their huge cameras with lenses that extended as far as Pinocchio's nose.

"Paparazzi," Lavin whispered to Alex as they proceeded past the front gates. "How horrid."

Lavin, Alex, and Ben continued towards the chapel after the elder members of her family proceeded through the church's open door. Peter and Gen followed behind them.

Lavin kept her eyes on her heels, her favorite pair of black suede pumps, as she heard the church bells lamenting high above their heads.

Before she reached the doors she was hit with an overwhelming floral smell. She glanced from her shoes to the church in front of her; everywhere there were flowers, letters, and pictures that had accumulated in the last six days.

An emotion welled up inside of her that she could not give name to; there was sadness and anger and jealously. She wanted to cry over her father's death and mourn the way she felt she needed to, but she hadn't been given that opportunity since she had been fully consumed by her duties as queen.

Her family took their seat in the pews at the very front. As she walked down the aisle to the beat of what could only be described as depressing organ music she kept her eyes on the elaborately decorated casket.

Out of her periphery she would see Queen Elizabeth's petite frame, her head covered with a black hat. Lavin fought the temptation to inspect the entire right side of the church. She knew that if she did she would find Harry and she did not want to see him.

When all were seated the choir began a hymn she recognized when she attended England's Queen Elizabeth's funeral. It was a very slow, haunting sound she didn't like.

She grabbed Ben's right hand and placed it in her lap and then she took Alex's in her left, squeezing their hands tightly at just the same moment the bishop's voice projected through the speakers as he and the other priests sang along.

_____

Harry's eyes seemed to be burning, either from the incense or for the simple fact that he had not taken his eyes off Lavin.

He could see the tension held tightly in her jaw as she passed him--without looking--as she and the rest of her family exited the chapel. Her hat covered her eyes but Harry knew she had not shed any tears today.

Her steps were more confident as she stepped into the church, but now they were heavy and it looked like she did not want to leave.

Harry understood this feeling. He remembered not wanting to leave his mother behind all those years ago in Westminster Abbey.

But, he knew, there was another reason for her hesitant steps. After she left here only one thing was left to do today, it was something Harry knew Lavin had not expected to do until she was much older.

In a matter of minutes she would be taken to the balcony of Christiansborg Palace and proclaimed Queen Lavinia I of Denmark by the Prime Minister.

Harry made small talk with his grandfather, Prince Phillip, but constantly kept watch of Lavin. She was shaking hands with Denmark's Prime Minister, who was giving Lavin her condolences; meaningless words that never made a person feel better.

She managed a smile, but it was a flawed one that radiated fear and sadness.

"Are you ready, Your Majesty?" Harry could just overhear Helena Ablidgaard say to Lavin.

Lavin shrugged, but Harry detected the miniscule flinch when Lavin heard the words 'Your Majesty'. "I presume I have to be, Your Excellency."

Together they traveled towards the belly of Christiansborg Palace, her family following close behind.

_____

Lavin allowed Helena to lead the way to the balcony despite knowing the layout of Christianborg by heart. The carpeted steps, normally long, seemed like the shortest staircase in creation.

Below her laid her father's body and before her stood what he left behind him: the Kingdom of Denmark.

Fear gripped her heart.

Would she ever be able to be a good queen?

She thought for a moment to her ancestors of her country and of the other kingdoms. In those days, heirs could not wait until the day they were crowned sovereign. Some even attempted to quicken their own father's end to gain the crown.

But, back then, being a monarch meant so much more than being a monarch in this century. Today, kings and queens are just figure-heads. They are patrons to charities and guests of honor at important dinners, but they do not hold the same power as they once did.

However, Lavin also understood the deeply entrenched tradition the monarchy was to Denmark, and with that in mind, she took a gigantic inhalation as she reached the last step.

She stood face-to-face with the balcony doors. They were magnificently decorated with thick curtains and outside she could hear the expectant shouts of the waiting crowd.

"You can do this, darling." It was her grandfather. Sebastian squeezed her shoulder encouragingly.

Lavin didn't say anything.

"Good luck, Lavin," Ben and Alex said behind her.

Lucy approached Lavin and gave her a hug. Lavin meekly wrapped her hands around her grandmother.

"You were born to do this, love. You're going to make your father, your family, and your country proud."

Lavin nodded.

Temperance only gave a faint kiss to Lavin's cheek before she retreated back to Lucy.

Lavin then turned back to the balcony doors, squared her shoulders and nodded to the doormen. The doors opened inward and a rush of the wind ruffled her dress and hair.

A roar grew below.

She stepped onto the marble balcony, her family remaining inside. When she reached the small podium of four microphones she stood beside the Prime Minister, waiting for the inevitable announcement.

Lavin inhaled once more, remembering the great confidence her father had for her as queen. And the great confidence the rest of her family had in her; and, finally, she remembered the love she felt when she visited the Faroe Islands.

Soon, sadness became a distant feeling as adrenaline began its journey through her body, warming her blood as it traveled.

Tradition was important to her family, and more so to the people of Denmark. She silently promised that she would try to be as confident in her position as others were of her.

Lavin watched the crowd carefully, mindfully keeping a neutral face. She tuned out the Prime Minister as she began her speech but her attention returned when the customary proclamation began.

"King Fredrick X is dead. Long live Queen Lavinia I!" Helena said firmly into the microphone.

Then once more.

And by the third time, the crowd joined it. It was a wonderfully frightening noise and it made Lavin's heart swell that she was so supported by her country.

Helena stood aside for Lavin to approach the podium.

The crowd became silent.

Lavin unfolded the piece of paper that held her speech and began her first address to the people.

"My beloved father, our king, is dead. While my father's reign was brief, his love and the duty he felt for his country lasted his entire life. The task as your queen now rests on my shoulders."

Lavin, who had not spoken a word since before the ceremony, was surprised that her voice was sturdy.

"I pray to God," she continued, "to give me help and strength to carry the heavy heritage. May the trust that was given to my father also be granted to me."

The end of her speech was met with another wave of cheers. She only acknowledged them with a gentle wave. Lavin thought a smile, no matter how faint, would have been fitting but worried that it would too much resemble a grimace.

The crowd kept chanting a powerful "LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!" as she retreated from the balcony and back into the depths of the palace.