The Enforcer and the Sovereign #5

1st & 2nd part
Part 3
Part 4

“You want children.”

The monarch did not jump, as the Enforcer appeared at their side. After nearly half a decade on the throne they were well used to their seemingly eternal, unchanging guide. Or, maybe, the rules of their kingdom and what was expected of its crown had been so well ingrained that they couldn’t disobey anymore. Or, at least, they didn’t have to think to know what the rules were.

“It is not the place of the crown to have heirs or secure a lineage,” the monarch said. “Your magic will take of my successor.”

“But still you want.”

The monarch’s fingers tightened, the barest fraction, on the cold smooth marble of their balcony. They kept their gaze trained on the courtyard far below them, listening to the sounds of laughter drifting up.

Normally, the courtyard was only used for the arrival and exits of nobles and dignitaries and whoever else might need to attend the palace. Normally, they didn’t bring their children, but the blacksmith was a single parent and his kids still young. The youngest was giggling on the blacksmith’s shoulders as they all headed for the door, back out the grand gates, to the freedom of their life beyond.

“It is not against the rules to want,” the monarch said, voice measured.

They could feel the Enforcer’s eyes on their face.

They weren’t even sure if they did want was actually children or just, well, the choice. Freedom. A life of their own. 

Maybe no monarchs ever got that.

To turn away from the spectacle of family felt like revealing something, though so did continuing to watch the scene below. Still. They hadn’t given the Enforcer cause to punish them in a long while.

They had been so young when the Enforcer’s magic chose them to be the next sovereign ruler of Sheyl; just turned twenty. Their predecessor had been young, too, in the grand scheme of human aging when they died. Just shy of fifty.

“What happens.” It was a question that had been on the monarch’s mind for a while. “When I am too old to be your sovereign?”

“Too old?” the Enforcer echoed.

The monarch weighed their words, carefully, searching for a path forward in the conversation that wouldn’t sound like speaking ill of the crown. They kept their voice light. “I am your sovereign, but my body is bound by human law. As humans age their eyesight and hearing weakens. Their physique changes. They may develop – problems.” They glanced over at the Enforcer, heart in their mouth. “I ask merely to clarify, not to speak ill nor make any suggestion. If my words are clumsy-”

The Enforcer smiled, that bland reassuring smile that revealed nothing of the truth of whatever the Enforcer really was inside (if there was anything at all…sometimes the monarch privately wondered).

The monarch stopped talking.

“Not at all,” the Enforcer murmured. “Curiosity is not a sin. You only intend to take your duties seriously.”

“Yes.”

“Your hearing will not lessen. Your eyesight will not fail you. Have you ever grown ill in my care, my sovereign? Do you not believe I look after you?”

It struck the monarch, suddenly, that they hadn’t. They hadn’t had a single cough or runny nose or sore throat. They’d put it down to the healthy food and regiments that the Enforcer so strictly kept them to, but…

They stared at the Enforcer, wide-eyed.

“So I…your last sovereign...”

There was nothing in the rules about retirement. Desertion was a crime punishable by death, but retirement wasn’t a word much cited when it came to governance. Part of the monarch had caught themselves hoping that, maybe, if they did the job perfectly then they would have the opportunity to bow out with grace and dignity when the Enforcer was ready for a newer, shinier, prettier figurehead that fit the radiant ideals of their nation. Maybe, for a few years, they could retire somewhere quiet in peace.

They knew the second they saw the Enforcer’s gaze sharpen that it had been a foolish idea. Beyond stupid. To have the ex-crown running around unattended? It was preposterous. They might sell trade secrets, or ruin the general sanctity of the position in general.

Which meant, no family. Ever. No romantic relationships as they distracted from the art of rule, or might provide opportunities for corruption or favouritism.

Maybe, in another five or ten years, they would stop wanting. They had done a good job tackling their ‘rotten foundations’ with the Enforcer by their side, stripping away old habits and ways of thinking. Still. That hadn’t prepared them for the new longings, the new realisations of what life could offer, new people that they knew they could never have.

The future that they could never have.

Letting go of the past had been one task, but the future…

The enormity of their life, of the impossible duty that would swallow it whole even if they had never wanted it, was dizzying when the monarch allowed themselves to think about it.

“Come inside,” the Enforcer said.

The monarch followed, numbly, shutting away the red and gold of the sunset, shutting away the lingering peals of laughter and love. They braced themselves for whatever came next as the Enforcer cupped their jaw with both hands.

“The life of the sovereign has its unique challenges,” the Enforcer said, studying them. “It is a great honour but I am not blind to the sacrifices it demands. I know you think I do not notice them but I know all the ways that your predecessors have fallen, too weak to do what had to be done for the good of the kingdom, despite my best efforts.”

It wasn’t that they thought the Enforcer didn’t notice, the Enforcer seemed to see everything, of course they noticed. The monarch simply didn’t believe the Enforcer cared about the sacrifices. The laws were absolute, unquestionable, and so there was no room (they had learnt so well) to debate or complain. Such a thing did not befit the crown. The crown did not doubt.

There were benefits too, of course. The monarch knew they were technically well-taken care of still, with the finest clothes and foods and access to education and travel when needed. But.

The Enforcer’s thumb traced, hypnotic, over the monarch’s cheek.

“You have asked me before why I chose you,” the Enforcer said. “You have told me that you want to rule, to truly rule, and I have told you that you will. That I chose you because you will. I believe you will.”

“I remember.” The monarch had never got an answer to those questions though, not really. They felt their heartbeat pick up.

“I was like you once,” the Enforcer said. “Fallible. A fragile, doubting vessel carrying the ideals of something far greater and more important than myself. I did not have someone like me, who could seal the cracks, undo the shattering and pain of mistakes, smooth away the imperfections. Someone who could tell me what to do and how to be what was needed. My mentor was…unsuited.”

The monarch was vaguely aware that they had stopped breathing, stopped doing anything except stare at the Enforcer with a rapt and unwavering attention.

They couldn’t imagine the Enforcer, for all that they appeared perfectly human, to be anything so ordinary. They didn’t talk about themselves like they were human either. They were some force above humanity, some divine order, some integral part of the universe. As long as there had been sovereigns, there had been the Enforcer. If they had been human once, they weren’t anymore.

“I became what I was meant to be,” the Enforcer said, holding their gaze. “I have raised a hundred crowns and the legacy of Sheyl is one of peace and prosperity. To be the crown is to have this whole kingdom be your family, your children. You cannot possibly give your love to only one or two. It would only compromise you to try."

The monarch swallowed, before they could stop themselves. They’d half expected the enforcer to gently scold them for daring to want something other than their position, even if it wasn’t technically against the rules to think it. Wanting to be something else vocally and in public definitely counted as disrespecting the crown, though.

“Take hope,” the Enforcer said, and when they smiled it even seemed to have some genuine warmth, some bliss of purpose. “For if you truly prove yourself capable of being the crown, then after that, you may yet become an Enforcer too. Your future is full of possibility, my sovereign. So set aside your sorrow, worthy though it is. You will be so much more.”

And they pressed a kiss to the monarch’s forehead, before letting go, as if that wasn’t the worst thing that they had ever said.

To get the job right, to pass every test, was to do it forever.

But maybe…just maybe…if they were the Enforcer, if they were absolute, then everything would change…

“Thank you,” the monarch said, and smiled, bland and pleasant. “I am always grateful for your council.”

No one else would ever have to be the crown again.