A great throng many thousands strong, pressed against lines of guards at attention. A parade of soldiers marching in time and of horses dancing to some unheard rhythm. A grand swelling of triumphal trumpets that urged a continuous roar from the adulating crowd. Hats and hands alike waving. Both the short and the eager stretching on their toes, willing to avail their eyes of the sight they had come to see. There was time yet to wait, but the cheer and the thrill did not abate.

She would admit a failure to remain demure and patient: the spirit and pride of the occasion had firmly drawn her in. What a thing it was to be part of the crowd!

Around the ringed drive marched the parade, company after company. She admired their trim uniforms, their steady gait, their proud heads held high. She thought few nations could boast a host so fair. The horses too looked the part, with their glossy coats and prancing hooves. They lacked only an understanding of the momentous proceedings.

From further up came the rolling increase of the people's clamour. She knew the cause and that she should see for herself soon, but she craned her neck all the same. A gap in the procession – almost! – a glimpse of gold – just a little more! – there! The gilt carriage with fine-wrought scrollwork! She could not see more than its top from where she stood, but it was unmistakable in its steady path through the assembly, warm despite the cloudy skies and brighter than any colour she could see.

The increasing cheers rushed at her like a wave and she raised her own voice to meet it. The top of the carriage passed – she could not see into it at this distance – but she forgot to let her cries drift back down. Or perhaps she didn't, and she wanted only to let her encouragement be heard a little longer.

The carriage halted at the gates, but she could not see the dismount. It hardly mattered, for as soon as the ringed drive was clear, the multitude swept in and she trotted along with it. Even if she had wanted to stay back, to regain a little composure, she could not have. But she hadn't wanted to; she pressed forward nearly as eagerly as any other.

She could not get so close at the gates, but it mattered little. She lifted her eyes to the balcony, waiting, waiting for whom she had come to see. A chant grew from the wordless roar: We want the queen! We want the queen! We want the queen!

And then… there she was.

Her breath was fairly taken away, no matter the vocal fervour of those around her. There was no mistaking that the young woman on the balcony was, in every way, a queen. It was not the crown that made her so, nor the pearl-white gown like snow against the red drapery, nor the floral emblems of the Commonwealth said to adorn the gown. No. Her eyes might see all that, but her heart….

Her heart saw a young woman of grace and gentle strength, of beauty outside and in, of regal bearing and an upright mind. Her heart saw a sweet joy and a firm resolve, a devotion to service and a vow to rule according to that service.

She wondered how she saw that, too far to really read the queen's face. More than that, she wondered at what seemed both an echo of loss and a call to memory.

Then her eyes and heart together saw – if only for the briefest moment – something, someone else entirely. Another queen, just a little older than the one on the balcony, wearing a golden circlet of daffodils, and settled even more firmly in the love and duty of her royal office. Another queen with another face – indistinct, shrouded by a fog of forgetfulness, yet almost familiar….

The queen on the balcony looked at her. Surely not, not from that distance. But she might have done. Once a queen, always a queen.

Queen Elizabeth turned her gaze elsewhere. Susan Pevensie – Queen Susan, if she allowed it – rejoined the exultations. God save the queen!

"O God... Grant unto this thy servant Elizabeth, our Queen, the spirit of wisdom and government, that being devoted unto thee with her whole heart, she may so wisely govern..." ~ Archbishop of Cantebury Geoffry Fisher's prayer for Queen Elizabeth II at her coronation

Prompt: "[...] sometimes a moment might be short, but it's long enough to illuminate a lifetime."

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