Without Words, Without Sight

1: A Lonely King

The King of the Beasts roamed the darkness aimlessly, as if to corner his own mind so that it would not escape him.
He should have been at ease. Honoured. Proud. But all he felt was darkness.

He had left the path and strode through the thick undergrowth pushing aside the deep black silhouettes that seemed to not even dare make a sound in his presence, even as they broke and tore violently.
They all feared him now, as they had been raised to do.
He could not bring himself to shed tears even now that he had finally managed to leave those walls. He was not allowed to. It would have been a disgrace and the greatest disappointment, when everything had been so beautifully done.
When their face had looked so peaceful.
He had watched as the light slowly faded and bit his lip secretly as they all watched and held back their tears.
How befitting, they had praised. How magnificent.

The moonlight that had never failed him when begged for comfort now only carved out bitter thoughts from his blackened mind.
They had come with a vision. Himself, in person. They had said it was time, finally time!
And from then on he had only obeyed.
Had done as he had been told, only to wake up again when the cold metal touched his forehead.
How quick the warmth had faded from it. It almost felt like a betrayal.
The tradition, they had said. The tradition had been followed in the most beautiful way. He failed to see the beauty only now.

He fell to his knees and stared at the ground. He could see them all. Even the smallest forms of life. He was to protect them now, all of them. And yet they shuffled away, rushing to where the darkness provided refuge. The mighty tree beside him, however, grazed his cheek with their leaves and emitted a wave of their sweetest scent.
Of course, of all the creations, the unmoving, the unwavering would be the ones devoid of fear. Brave enough to console even a fearsome King. He clenched the ground. Roots and stones shrieked, crumbled, gave in, tore apart. When had these pranks become so huge?

He watched his sharp claws as if they were not his own for a while. They glistened white and blue under the full moon. Indeed, what a night to crown a new King.
He let out a bitter fragment of laughter. It would not resound.
Then something cracked.
He looked up, his golden eyes suddenly shining attentively. His combative nature was never far from the surface.
The scent of gentle waves on fresh water wafted towards him.
Had there been a pond there?

He moved closer, maKing no sound at all. Hunting and fighting were things he excelled at.
Water trickled softly. Something emerged from under the surface.
The mighty King froze.
With amazement he traced his hair standing up one after the other, from his large neck down the spine. The black, withstanding fur that covered his bulky arm muscles suddenly stood on end. How long had it been?

Her beauty was divine, almost eery. Her skin had the colour of the moon and seemed to emit a light of its own. She stood amidst the lake, the cold water embracing her up to where her thighs met her hip. Her slender body was only covered with a thin white gown, revealing her shoulders and collar bone. She could have been held for weak, but her graceful posture compensated for what was clearly considered a short-coming among his people. Long fingers with pointed nails wandered down her arm slowly as she washed herself. She had not noticed him.
Her long, wavy hair covered her back and thighs, delicately veiling her hips and waist, a few strands flowing over her shoulder. It was so long that it would float on the water around her. It seemed almost blueish, but its glow was warm even under the this cold light. Her eyes were closed as she savoured the pure water caressing her skin. She smiled slightly, her small face framed by elegantly curved, light grey horns. Her whole body seemed to glow in the purest white he had ever seen.
My Queen..., a whisper in his mind. Startled by his own thoughts, he made another step.

She turned around. Pale, much too pale eyes - now wide open - flashed. She was staring right at him, hands covering her chest where her heart raced violently. He could see it, hear it, feel it. Her muscles were now tight, her gaze still set on where he stood.

"Is someone there?"
Her soft voice ripped apart the darkness.
His heart felt light at once.
His feet brought him even closer, until the branches revealed his whole body.
She did not show any sign of fear. Did she not recognize him? Was she not aware that all citizens were required to fall to their knees before their King at sight, by the pain of death?
"Is someone there?", she repeated.
Her eyes still set on him.
Was she...?
No.
If she really were blind, how could he...?

He growled faintly. Why did this have to be the only thing his voice was capable of?
When she heard this, her muscles relaxed a little.
Slowly, she backed out of the water and reached for her dress. When she noticed that he would not move, she approached him, still wary.
"You are not well", she concluded.
Had she known only from the sound of his voice?
"By what name do they call you, friend?" Never had he heard words spoken in such a tender manner. She walked towards him gracefully, one hand extended towards his face. He shook his head. Her hand pulled back immediately.
"Then...May I sit with you?" She asked, a warm smile on her lips. Did she not dread him? Could she not feel his aura by now?
In spite of himself, he let out a growl again.
She sat down on her knees, her eyes pinned to the ground in front of him, yet fixating nothing.

"I believe we have never met", she continued. "I have never felt a similar presence. And such a desolate one, too."
He breathed out heavily at her insightful words. Indeed, it was. Maybe he could confide in a stranger in a lonely place like this. She would never know, anyway. But how to confide without a voice to speak, he did not know.
"Friend", she said with a comforting smile, "Give me your hand so that I may know you, for my eyes have not been made to see."
When she extended her small-boned hands once again, he hesitated for a moment.
She was so delicate, so soft. He was the King now and yet he felt that his pranks were not worthy of her touch.
No, he thought. How can I touch something so pure? I fear these claws might corrupt you at once.
"Do not worry", she whispered. "Be at ease."
He stared at her in bewilderment for a moment, then his hands moved on their own. Her long fingers were still so tiny in comparison. Carefully, he met the palms of her hands.
Her smile vanished at once and gave way to terror.

"My King...!", she exclaimed, her voice suddenly broken. She backed away and bowed down in the blink of an eye.
No, he thought. Not you.
"Forgive me, my King."
She trembled.
She was overflowing with fear. Was she awaiting her death now?
No.
No, you are not to fear me, he thought. Do you hear? You, of all creatures, are not to fear me. He sighed in the most gentle way he could muster and drew closer.
When his hands came to rest on her shoulder, she flinched. Then she sat up straight, tears silently streaming from under her closed eyelids. For the first time, the man who had been educated in nothing but the art of provoking respect, awe and terror in order to lead the country as its King, felt sorry for having done what had become his very nature. What he had been commanded to make his nature ever since he could remember.

Smile again, he begged with his whole being. How was it possible he felt such a thing towards such a small, pitiful creature like this?
Tenderly, he wiped away her tears.
I am sorry I disturbed you, he thought, hoping she would understand. And really, her tears soon stopped flowing. She lifted her face a little with a wondering expression.
This was no place for him, after all.
He caressed her cheek once again and stood up swiftly.
"My King...", she whispered once again, unbelievingly.

But he was already gone.