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ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Sharing the Throne
By carpesomediem
For some reason, standing their in the bathroom with Sam, Brooke was reminded of the stories of King Arthur in her English classes the previous year. King Arthur created the Round Table to share the wealth of his royalty with his friends and loyal comrades. By sharing the crown this way, he was able to not only be king but also keep the company of those he cared about the most. He kept them close, friends and enemies, and despite their differences, they came together and fought for Camelot when the kingdom was in jeopardy.
Most kings since then threw those they cared about the most to the wayside to keep their power in check. It was a lot like the social hierarchy at Kennedy High. Those on top did whatever they could to keep those around them from climbing up the social ladder. Brooke only managed to hold onto her crown by the company she kept, and even then, she still had to keep Nicole and Mary Cherry at bay. They were waiting for their chance to stab her in the heart, just like another figure Brooke was familiar with: Julius Caesar.
Brooke wasn't one to share the throne; she was one to hold onto it for dear life. The crowning achievement of that throne was just that: The homecoming crown. The little plastic tiara that meant everything to girls at every social level at Kennedy. Even the girls who denied being interested in it secretly wondered what it would be like to wear that crown on top of their head and be the one everybody was talking about.
Sam wasn't immune to the crown. She would deny it until the end of days, she would shrug it off and say it didn't matter to her, but it did. Despite being a social outcast, she, too, often wondered what it would be like on the top of the ladder. She'd seen the demands Brooke put on herself. They were all in the name of maintaining the popular status she seemed to love. Or so Sam originally thought. Slowly, steadily, the more she began to observe of Brooke now that they lived together, the more she realized that the blonde was more than just Kennedy's version of Malibu Barbie.
When Brooke handed her the crown, told her to feel what it was like, Sam didn't quite believe that she'd been given the trinket. Why would the princess give up her crown? That'd be like Cinderella going home before midnight. It just didn't happen in the fairy tales she'd read of the Disney movies she'd grown up watching. While most of the time she scoffed at such childhood memories, it was in that moment as Brooke stood waiting for a response did she realize she was being given a chance to be a princess even if it was just in their shared bathroom.
There were no words to exchange - there were no quips to trade - it was simple. Sam merely had to take the crown, let Brooke smile and walk away, then take all the time in the world to live in that single moment. When Brooke left, Sam watched curiously wondering if it was all just a dream. Was she really holding the crown that meant so much to her arch-enemy? What power did it hold? Was it really going to make a difference if she wore the tiara? Would it open up insights into the blonde or popularity or any of the other wonders of the teenage world she resisted living in?
That's when Sam fell back on what she knew. For some reason, the stories her dad told her as a kid about King Arthur flooded into her mind. She smiled recounting as her father told the stories with gusto, re-enacting sword fights and argument at the Round Table amongst knights. She'd never shared those particular moments with anyone, not even her mother, because they were her most treasured. It was recalling those nights that made her smile to herself; she realized what Brooke had done, the blonde had given her a piece of the Round Table. A small piece, but a piece none the less.
Now, the brunette had a choice: She could cast off the trinket and throw it to the peasants or she could take the gesture as a honorable way to bring her into the fold of that table. Of course, the other knights – Nicole, in particular – would object, but when it came down to it, Brooke was the king, so to speak, in the court and her word was gold until that crown was passed down to her next of kin.
Since she still had a few years reign left, Sam felt it was safe to set the crown on top of her mane and admire the new look in the mirror. 'So, this is what it's like,' she thought. And despite all the years of convincing her that it wouldn't matter if she was a princess or not, just for a minute, Sam McPherson felt like she belonged. She'd never tell anybody, she'd never write it in her journal and she'd certainly never confide in Brooke.
But somehow, some way, she knew that nothing would ever be the same now that the blonde had shared her crown with the one person on the planet she would've thought she'd need to defend it from. Sam had extended an olive branch, Brooke had accepted, and graciously extended her own. Now, Sam had to find a way to keep some sort of peace between the two, because even if you sit at the Round Table, it doesn't mean that you still aren't waging war on some level with those around you, even if it's the king himself. After all, not everyone can sit at the right or left of Arthur. And Sam was very sure she wanted to sit next to Brooke, holding her hand, come hell or high water in the kingdom they now shared.
The End