The Uprising

1

The tail of his crimson velvet cloak stroked the ground with a noise. Calmly, the figure of royalty and power continued to walk across the sparkling, marble floor towards the throne room.

The palpable sense of authority surrounded the cowardice maids, sending them into a graceful curtsey at the King; he paid no attention to any of them.

"My King, you did not answer the question proposed by the vampire community. Even the witches seem to be questioning your rule a-"

He turned on his heel, immediately silencing the desperate man with his intense, icy glare.

"Did I ask you to speak?"

The smooth, husky voice broke the impending silence, females in absolute awe at the sound of the king: their king.

"N-no sir but I-"

"Why are you still talking?"

His weak pale face shone in the sunlight beaming through the stained windows, a whimper escaping his emaciated lips.

"I-I'm sorry m-my g-grace."

Without even a hint of a glance, the King glided away, leaving the poor man confused and terrified out of his wits.

"Maximus, that was uncalled for."

His deep set eyes narrowed slightly at the questioning voice of his Mother and he ignored her, focusing on the everlasting documents in front of him.

"I am your Mother and the previous Queen, you can not just ignore me when you please."

He locked eyes with those of a wise, beautiful woman and stayed silent, not responding to anything.

With a loud sigh, the frustrated Mother stood unhappily, sending one last look to her son.

"We know you are stressed. This does not give you the right to act like you are alone and there is no one who loves you or wants to help. I will always be here for you."

He nods, disregarding her heartfelt comment with his large hand, before turning his attention back to the barely touched papers.

With another prolonged sigh, the previous Queen left the room, the King alone once again.

He stared at the gigantic door with intricate designs embedded over the front and closed his eyes, his long lashes resting gently ontop of his cheeks.

Why can I not feel?

•••

The echoe of rebellion bellowed through the small village as the young woman found her way around the maze like area, people upon people surrounding her.

'We want justice!'

'Where is our King now?'

'Are the zombies real?!'

She scoffed as she passed by, shaking her head at the poeple who believed that zombies were arriving.

Of course this was all a lie. One big rumour to get the King off of his high throne.

She rolled her eyes at the amount of people around her and her grip tightened around the strap of her small bag hung loosely on her shoulder.

Poeple seemed so stupid to her. All they wanted was the King's attention on their small village. Some even aspired to be King.

The pressure of being King to so many types of supernatural beings and trying to hide them all from humans at the same time, who would want that kind of responsibitly?

She pondered over the thought before finally reaching her cosy cottage and grasping for her keys deep in inside of the tattered bag.

She unlocked her door and proceeded to lock it after her.

Th crime activity in small villages had increased ever since the nonsense of the rebellion and her living on her own wasn't safe.

She reached her own small library and gently held the book she adored ever so much.

The secret garden.

An odd book to love so much but the thought of living in the world of the human sounded so pleasent compared to her reality.

She could be who she wanted, whenever she wanted.

With the simple thought in mind, she flipped open the pages of the slightly wrecked book and snuggled into her sofa, clutching onto the warm blanket wrapped around her.

In moments, she was lost in the world of Mary Lennox and her adventures

•••

The King stepped out of his historical castle, striding towards the car he had arranged for himself.

Rumours of the Zombie rebellion had stirred in many villages, especially the smaller ones.

Some of the people in these villages had attempted to set fires to historical sites and magical places, all for the attention of the King, of him.

He furrowed his perfectly shaped eyebrows, stress lines appearing on his forehead.

This was not supposed to happen. He had his rule over the kingdom planned, a perfect future set out in front of him.

Nothing ever goes to plan.

The driver started the engine, driving away from the Castle and closer to the poorer areas of the werewolf Kingdom alone. The other villages were further away and would just have to wait.

The drastic change was becoming obvious.

The grand decorations of the rich seemed to come less often and the sight of immaculate roads began to decrease.

Already half way through the journey, sights of painted words and signs were scattered across the roads, all of them being disrespectful to the monarchy.

The driver cleared his throat, breaking the ongoing silence and then remained quiet, finding the words/phrases either amusing or highly disrespectful.

The closer the car got to the villagers, the louder the chants of revolution seemed.

The King calmed his furious Lycan and stopped the driver 5 minutes before the destination.

The driver had only just seen what the King was wearing and his jaw dropped but the King had already walked away, normal clothes tightly clutching his bulging muscles.

He shook his head but drove away anyway, leaving the King to deal with the anger of the normal folk.

The King, ignoring the engine of the car, continued forward on his mission to one of the villages with the most angry villagers anyone had reported to him.

Nobody batted an eyelash when he arrived and he didn't expect anyone to.

It was perfect.