King of the Beasts and Queen of the Clouds

Chapter 4: Trifle Moments of Revelation

Chapter 4: Trifle Moments of Revelation

Since umbra had his prevailing shroud,

The sun whose brilliance diminished,

Her glowing face veiled by else a cloud,

Must hope that the shadows have finished.

:o:-:o:-:o:-:o:-:o:

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," Maximilian, head of the royal guard, apologised profusely, shedding stricken tears as he dipped over and over again into a bow. "We tried. H-he ran off into the forest. We lost him. There's nothing more we can do. Please forgive us. I-I'm sorry."

Oh no . . . Her lower lip trembled in a manner unbefitting of a grown monarch, shoulders squared in some semblance of her husband's strength. He always made it so important that they have a formidable defense for reasons like this. Now she saw clearly how incompetent they were. The palace had gates. Rows upon rows of inevitably crowded halls. Guards at every major doorway.

And yet the King made his way out without an issue.

There's too much at risk. And it is my fault that we're in this situation at all. I should have listened. He was right, she mourned, fighting back her own sobs that threatened to return. No. I am the Queen. I must be strong now, if not before.

"The forest is terribly frightening a-after those witches . . . I beg, d-don't make us go out there again."

"The blame is none of yours to take . . ." the woman assured, disappointed orbs moving over the sad coalition as she waved her hand in a soft gesture of dismissal. They were so worried that they forgot all semblances of amenity. For once, she didn't correct them. "Get some rest. This afternoon has worn thin."

No one stayed behind at that order, though a couple turned sympathetic eyes to her surely crumpling form and offered a few words of empty comfort before too disappearing with the others.

She stood alone for a short while, caressing one of her arms and staring blankly at the entrance. She imagined herself following the King, reaching out to him, the man turning, turning . . . back . . .

The image of the monster's beastly figure flashed sharply into her mind; the abhorrent, horrific disaster burned eternally in her memory. Dread and regret clawed at her insides and she gasped, cringing and stumbling in reverse, almost tripping on the impractical hem of her gown. Her heart beat rapidly, the hurried thumping of the organ causing sweat to bead down her neck.

It took more than a steadying of her breath to calm, the Queen placing her palm over her chest, fingers gripping at the fabric. Pray tell the King be able to survive the consequences of her actions, lest she absolutely fall to ruin. Eventually, she managed to regather herself, slowly stepping across the throne room and towards the far corridors of the palace.

Her attention lingered on the King's uninhabited seat, a dutiful pang reverberating through her system. She carried on.

Standing rather attentatively by the double doors leading to the dining room, his head bent low in submission, was the cook who had offered them their final course. He looked awfully remorseful.

Contrary to her character, a deep suspicion filled the Queen. Despite it being her fault. It had to be her fault. Somehow, she knew. But she wished it wasn't. "I told everyone that they could return to their quarters. What are you doing here, Gerard?"