Heavy is the Head that Wears the Crown

Part 1

     Her lips taste like April. Like new beginnings and life, like blossoming flowers and new dewy green leaves. I know she shouldn't be here, I know that I hurt more people being with her than I do when I'm with Isabelle, but I can't help myself and I don't want this feeling to end.

     She pulls away and fixes her hair, "I need to go before someone questions my whereabouts."

     "You don't have to, you can just stay here," I say as I reach for my white linen shirt hooked on my bed pillar.

     "Ha! So your betrothed can walk in and see her maid sleeping with not only her future husband but the future King of England," Audrey says as she presses on her dark green gown and heads to the door.

     I chuckle as I drag her by the waist back into my embrace, her dark brown hair strands hover over her amber eyes.

     "You have beautiful eyes," I say as she shuffles her body off my bed.

     "I know. You tell me that all the time," she says as she walks to the door.

     "Because it's true," I say as I sit myself up and stare at the way her dress sways with her waist as she walks.

     "The next time I'm here I want to try on those herbal scents that your adviser brought back from Spain," she says. She turns the long golden knob and peeks her head out into the hallways before turning to give me a wink and leaving.

     When I hear the doors shutter shut I smack my head on plush pillows and stare at my ceiling. The lights shine on the array of curved golden lines causing it to reflect on lines on my burgundy velvet duvet.

     Is this the type of king I will be? The type that can't stay loyal to his betrothed. A carbon copy of my father? A disloyal fool? A foolish king, is that what I want to be, is that the idol I want to be for my future children?

     I hear a knock on my wooden burgundy colored doors.

     "Come in," I say, my voice raspy and dry.

     My mother enters my room with the click, clack of her short kitten heels. At times they scrape my rust colored tiles, making screeching sounds.

     "You must hurry. The banquet starts soon. You must be there to show support to your sister and her soon to be husband," my mother says. My mother, Her Lady the King's Mother. Or at least the king to be. Her lips droop on her face, thin and gray. Her eyes are ice blue, glossy, as if coated with a thick layer of tears that refuse to fall. But you dare not confuse that with weakness. You mess with my mother, you mess with fire, not that of my own but of hers. Her eyes are flames dyed blue.

     "I will be sure to be there Mother. I promise. In fact, I was just about getting ready," I say as I rise from my bed. A shiver runs through my body as my feet make contact with the cold floor.

     "I hope you know what an amazing allegiance this is. Spain has a lot of control over Europe and England's allegiance to them is one that is great," she says as she pivots towards the door.

     "Oh...and spend more time with your wife. She needs your company, especially before her marriage, so there is no change of mind," she pulls on my gold door knob, turns so that she is staring into my eyes, "because that would a great disgrace to your reign," she says as she glides out of my room and into the wide, vacant halls.