Myth and Stories

King

He was a deity of hell, and she loved him.

He walked with an air of confidence, of royalty, of a king that grew in a court of thorns and roses and knows perfectly well what is expected of him. There was no hesitation, no pause in his step as he moved closer and closer to the hems of her yellow dress, black cape billowing behind him.

She expect him to pause, to lower his head to her level, take her hand and give it a small kiss. Her goals changed in that instant.

It took her three hours this afternoon to get ready for the ball, the ball that required all members of the royal family to attend. Her eyelashes were powdered with glitter, her lips full of cherry red, her cream coloured dress fanned out around her, layer after layer, a jasmine flower throne that gave her the heights she deserved.

There was nothing interesting about the ball. The food was set in long tables by the sides, food she couldn't eat in fear of ripping out of her corset. She had been chatting to the various ladies of the court, all of them weighed down by their powdered wigs, too stupid to function.

They were here to get the princes, she was here to get a king.

They have two kings. Much like chess.

There is the king that did nothing but feast and paint and whip prisoners and commoners. With the heavy pearl crown on top of his head there is nothing he can do for himself, but he is first born, and the nobles have their prince.

He called himself the Tsar King. She called him the Fat Oaf.

The prince is the brother of the Tsar King, the Black Prince, the Grand Prince.

Pretty but useless nobles like herself have not seen the black prince, though everyone knew who it is that ruled the country. He could be king if he wanted, but for someone that has conquered half the world, he is quite content to remain prince.

Both of them have no wives, and before she saw the black prince, she is content with a Margrave or a Duke, or the even the Tsar King if she is feeling generous. But now she has seen the prince, and now that he has paused in front of her for her judgement, her goals changed.

Short silver hair with a heavy fringe that covered one of his amethyst eyes, or she assume so, for she couldn't see much under the heavy thing. Blue and black and purple adorned his body, cravat, coat and ceremonial sword she knew he wouldn't use. Four heavy coattails flapped against his legs and the enormous cape as he walked.

She expected him to come bowing to her, asking for a dance, she could barely restrain her hand from rising up on its own accord. She is beautiful, too beautiful to resist, not even the fat king can stop himself from looking at her from his porch on the white throne.

The prince bellowed pass her without a word, leaving her shell shocked and angry beyond her words.

But she couldn't do anything, couldn't do a damn thing as his cape scrapped past the hem of her dress, causing her to trip on her high heals.

She caught a glimpse of his hidden eye, and found a red phoenix underneath there. Dim red light that couldn't penetrate the thick silver fringe and take control of other person's mind.

But she saw, and the phoenix nestled underneath her eyes.

Now she found her king.

- Some thing I came up when I suppose to do Algebra in school