Native Pride (closed)

[Hud]

Devereaux & Armand.

Today was the day of days.

Armand had known for seasons on end that it was time to pass the crown to his son. He'd been under the misconception of his son's immaturity for much too long. His son had brought his grandson's existence to light and Armand was happy to hear that he was his only offspring. Had he known Devereaux would be so proud of a child, he would've understood that Devereaux had many more morals than he'd once thought. Armand had assumed that Devereaux would be like he was when he was his age - wild and hard to handle. No, he seemed much more down-to-earth and he seemed to respect family much more than he'd initially thought. It was high time he gave up his title to his much more able son. His time as a monarch was over.

The lead stallion limped along toward a thinly iced-over bog pond - his favorite in all of Bastein. He called it his "trou de miel", or "honey hole". In the springtime it was green and young and flourishing. It was the home of a respectable four to seven alligators at any given time, and now was the perfect time to conduct the important ceremony. The alligators were sleeping and not hungry in the winter time. It was quiet and private. When the grullo found a good place to stand and face his son, Devereaux followed suit, standing squarely across from his father. He didn't know the protocol for such an event, though he did know how to respect and follow.

The red dun stallion stood only a quarter of a hand shorter than his aging father, though his respect for Armand's ways shot up much farther than that. The stallions' blue eyes locked onto each other, Armand's expression sour and cold as always, and Devereaux' attentive and solemn.

"Dev-uh-roh..."

His son stayed silent; only his ears made any movement as they pricked forward.

"To-day, Ah'm passin' Bastein t'you. I trust dat you'll respect de land?"

"'Course."

"You'll respect de herd?"

"'Course."

"And you'll nevuh, evuh let de land fall into da wrong hooves?"

Devereaux was struck by the last instruction. He'd never even considered that challengers were possible. He'd never heard of one in Bastein; perhaps Armand had dealt with them before without his knowledge... It was a reasonable thing to ask for from a new king. 

"Nevuh."

Armand watched his son's face for a time. His son was a stallion. He was fully-grown and was as respectable as they came. The old king knew he was doing the right thing if not for Devereaux, but for himself. The lands longed for new blood. Who knows? Maybe he'd attract more herd members with that voluminous ginger mane. Armand's serious expression broke. What a silly thought.

"You da king now, Dev!" he said quietly with happiness in his voice and pride in his actions as he nipped at his son's poll.

Devereaux smiled back. So he was.