Tuesday, February 28, 2012
The King
Once upon a time there was an amazing, handsome young fellow who could hunt, fight, cook, sing, dance and every other thing he was required to do, and he was extremely good at it. Woman, maidens or not, swooned when he came into sight. Even though he was half their age, and he constantly had a young maiden on each of his arms, riding alongside him in his carriage or giddily, as daintily as giddy can be of course, trotting beside him as he strolled through the town, his by blood and by rule. The young man eventually grew to be a fine prince. He loved, hated, went through pain and cried himself to sleep just like any other person would. His heart having been broken many times, he summoned harlets who would only do him the simple pleasure of being in his company for a night, and one night only. He courted the many daughters of Dukes, princesses, queens and others who came to him only for the sacrifice of his kingdom. None lasted longer then a year, as he always found some flaw on the outside or inside. One wasn't his idea of pretty, one had the golden hair of one of his many heartbreaks, and one laughed, talked and generally just made to much noise for him. Under all these excuses, he knew that he could never let anyone except himself know of his pain. Not his family, not whatever petty courtship he was in at the time, not his friends, and especially not his kingdom.
Unable to open his heart to another woman, he grew up a somber, yet quietly powerful king. Blocking his mind of the memories and pain caused by his heartbreaks, he served with grace and poise for many years. His anger and aches eventually built up to where he could not stop the tears when their lovely faces drifted into his mind. Excuses for hiding his face sank into the everyday conversation between the maids and the rest of his castle. As magnificent as it was, the castle was very well known for its nooks and crannies, easily spreading gossip and untrue words through the minds of the royals and the society. One maid felt for the King, as she had seen the wet streaks of tears on his face when he had called on her to bring him water one late night. Feeling the pain of heartache as well, she questioned him about what she had witnessed, and he told her his story. Never having seen a woman so intent on listening, he talked to her as he would a friend, without the usual hostility towards any sort of her gender. Over time the bond grew closer, and when the stress built up, she was there, and the ache started to fade as his floodgates and stone walls came crashing down.
Wars, death, disease and hate spread across the land. The King was still unmarried after many, many years of ruling over his kingdom. So many years, in fact, that soon he would not be able to marry or have children. There had not been so many royal wedding as folks would have wanted, and the happiness in the castle seemed to fade with each passing year, month and day. A royal wedding, many folks said, would brighten up the townspeople's day and bring some hope and the smile of a new face with the delight of a babies laughter into everyones hearts. The people closer to him, and knowing his better, said he could use a woman in his heart, and within his "house." Someone to make him laugh and smile. He resisted, the aversion to woman still strong in his heart. The picking and nagging of his friends, family and country finally got to him, and he married the next harlet who had the pleasure of sharing his bed. As queen, she bore him a son within the next year. Seemingly happy, he smiled and laughed with her, stroked her hair and held her hand. However, only ever truly happy within his dreams, the lives outside of his, happy and whole, haunted him. Once his duty was done he faked his death, releasing himself to live for the first time in his life.
Once the rucus of his "death" blew over, he succumbed to the only thing he had ever wanted to do, but of course had been unable to do it. As King, he had always felt as if everything was handed to him. The ladies of his youth had seen his wealth and looks, given to him by status. The food was handed, literally, on a silver platter. He did not even know from what earth it had been grown in, and it was always tasted first to make sure it wasn't poisoned. The clothing, the richest purple to the shiniest gold, was sewn by maids and tailors. Not out of love by a wife wanting to make her husband happy, but out of force, for money. No one had cared to hand him his dream, and only one person had cared enough to ask him what his dream actually was. That he wanted to watch his own hard work grow up through earth he knew would not contain poison, come home and see a smiling face in the window, filled with love. To wrap HER in his arms everynight and kiss her forehead.
He knew who she was now, the only one who had ever listened to him, and he was free to live his dream. So he did, happily ever after.
>The story behind this is that my boyfriend asked me to tell him a story, and I did :) He said he felt really connected to the King, so I expanded it and put it on here! Enjoy :D<
Unable to open his heart to another woman, he grew up a somber, yet quietly powerful king. Blocking his mind of the memories and pain caused by his heartbreaks, he served with grace and poise for many years. His anger and aches eventually built up to where he could not stop the tears when their lovely faces drifted into his mind. Excuses for hiding his face sank into the everyday conversation between the maids and the rest of his castle. As magnificent as it was, the castle was very well known for its nooks and crannies, easily spreading gossip and untrue words through the minds of the royals and the society. One maid felt for the King, as she had seen the wet streaks of tears on his face when he had called on her to bring him water one late night. Feeling the pain of heartache as well, she questioned him about what she had witnessed, and he told her his story. Never having seen a woman so intent on listening, he talked to her as he would a friend, without the usual hostility towards any sort of her gender. Over time the bond grew closer, and when the stress built up, she was there, and the ache started to fade as his floodgates and stone walls came crashing down.
Wars, death, disease and hate spread across the land. The King was still unmarried after many, many years of ruling over his kingdom. So many years, in fact, that soon he would not be able to marry or have children. There had not been so many royal wedding as folks would have wanted, and the happiness in the castle seemed to fade with each passing year, month and day. A royal wedding, many folks said, would brighten up the townspeople's day and bring some hope and the smile of a new face with the delight of a babies laughter into everyones hearts. The people closer to him, and knowing his better, said he could use a woman in his heart, and within his "house." Someone to make him laugh and smile. He resisted, the aversion to woman still strong in his heart. The picking and nagging of his friends, family and country finally got to him, and he married the next harlet who had the pleasure of sharing his bed. As queen, she bore him a son within the next year. Seemingly happy, he smiled and laughed with her, stroked her hair and held her hand. However, only ever truly happy within his dreams, the lives outside of his, happy and whole, haunted him. Once his duty was done he faked his death, releasing himself to live for the first time in his life.
Once the rucus of his "death" blew over, he succumbed to the only thing he had ever wanted to do, but of course had been unable to do it. As King, he had always felt as if everything was handed to him. The ladies of his youth had seen his wealth and looks, given to him by status. The food was handed, literally, on a silver platter. He did not even know from what earth it had been grown in, and it was always tasted first to make sure it wasn't poisoned. The clothing, the richest purple to the shiniest gold, was sewn by maids and tailors. Not out of love by a wife wanting to make her husband happy, but out of force, for money. No one had cared to hand him his dream, and only one person had cared enough to ask him what his dream actually was. That he wanted to watch his own hard work grow up through earth he knew would not contain poison, come home and see a smiling face in the window, filled with love. To wrap HER in his arms everynight and kiss her forehead.
He knew who she was now, the only one who had ever listened to him, and he was free to live his dream. So he did, happily ever after.
>The story behind this is that my boyfriend asked me to tell him a story, and I did :) He said he felt really connected to the King, so I expanded it and put it on here! Enjoy :D<
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