Princess Perrin Narrative

Alex didn't want to bother me. Something about the way I was acting made him sure to keep his distance. Bothering wasn't something he was the least bit interested in doing.

Walking into the bathroom, I went to check myself and the time. The clock said nine o'clock, and that kept me pleasantly at-bay. However, my hair was going to need much more work, and so I wasn't exactly relaxed.

I looked myself over in the mirror. I had kept the custom-fit suit from Sylvia and my date from last year. It still smelled new, floral scented like the castle. It brought back good memories and made me smile. I needed to smile, I hadn't done so all morning.

"Are you certain that I am allowed to participate in this service as well?" I heard Alex call from the
This had to have been Prince Andrew, Prince Andrew as I had not seen him... ever. He was dressed as a Quercasian Prince, and my only guess at why he was dressed like this was because of the formality of the funeral. He may have been a rebel, but he knew when to respect his authority when he must.

In Andrew's arms was his little sister Princess Perrin. Perrin didn't know what was going on and was crying, but Andrew did her very best to keep it at a minimum. Someone needed to have control over the situation, and Andrew was one of the best people I knew when it came to comforting children.

The sound of people taking photographs and murmuring was almost unbearable. Unlike the paparazzi surrounding them, I knew that family. I knew how much this meant to them and how much they must have been able to imagine Edgar suffering. I could imagine how many interviews they must have gone through, and how Andrew was going to sneak away back to Amber as soon as possible. I wanted to give every one of them a hug, but I knew how hard that would be at this point...

Alex began to walk forward towards the crowd. Getting inside would be a challenge, though he were specifically invited. However, he kept walking past people, making his way up until he finally reached where the guards were holding people
I identified one as being of
St. Paul the Apostle on Mars Hill. Yet another was of St. Francis, the first friar, preaching the gospel to every creature. Most magnificently of all, however, was the stained glass window in the very back of the building. It was an enormous rood on which hung Jesus the Christ, his head bowed.

I had been in this cathedral before. When I lived with the Quercis family, being a Catholic family, I attended Mass with them on Sunday mornings. Nonetheless, not having been in a structure like this in so long had made me forget how spectacular it looked, and I was filled with a new sense of wonder.

Only the first fifteen or so booths on either side were filled. Everyone was in their best, all for the commemoration of an enormous political figure. In the front of the sanctuary, before the alter, was the coffin itself. Inside was Victor's body, laid to rest.

"Where do we go now?" asked Alex,