A Collection of Imagines

Timothée

Whatever you wish

The chilling air of the new terrain contained by this foreign king makes my spine go cold. The architecture of his fortress, the container for his pain, presents a facade of ancient money and power. My dressed feet pad against the loose gravel of the courtyard where I once ran across, laughing playfully, trying to escape him.

The horn blares for their arrival and it sounds throughout the throne room. My only trusted advisers again remind me to make this quick, more what she speaks to me about. I can hear the clanking of her heeled shoes, but I refuse to look up to find her deathly glare.

The grand doors open and I immediately find him. His eyes glued to the marble floor in front of him. I have come all this way and yet he still cannot look me in the eye. This man betrayed my country and he has the audacity not to look me in the eye. My path ends right in front of him. I stay still as his clergymen bow with their judgmental eyes expecting me to curtsy. I stare at his motionless head tilted towards the floor.

I take in a long breath as I raise my gaze to her. Her eyes ablaze as we finally make eye contact. Her pale face glows in the low light that bleeds through stain glass windows. The rouge on her cheeks and lips reminds me of how the cold English air would nip at her skin as we played together in the fields when we were children. Time were simpler.

The look he gives me tempts me to give into the rage that has been brewing up inside me, but my brother behind me constantly reminds that I should stay calm and collected, especially in front of his clergymen. They take emotion as a weakness in female monarchs. Although, they have never seen a monarch like this one before.

I look past her to find the older brother, the same male that would grovel in disgust to find us playing in the garden grounds at her childhood home. He would physically convulse when our parents discussed a possible marriage. That was all before her father and mother were found dead in their beds. And she took the throne. Her bastard brother was ordained as a clergyman.

"What in God's name were you comprehending, Henry?"

She addresses me informally, and yet I have no desire of correcting her.

"My country is not a passage to get war with France. Your troops were spotted near the northern border and my army could have easily demolished that mission if my soldiers did not inform me that they were English."

My clergymen look to me, gesturing that I end her berating, but I stay staring at her. Even in anger, I still am mesmerized by her given beauty. As a child, I knew that she was none like the other women I will ever meet. She demands attention and respect. No matter where she is and who she is presented to.

"You owe me more than an apology." His eyes never leave mine as I spew the words at him.

"I shall give you whatever you wish."

His words surprise. His gaze attacking my senses making me visibly shocked to the rest of the room. His eyes speaking to me the truth. He means the truth. "What say you?"

"I shall give you whatever you wish."

He has no idea what I wish. I wish to go back to the time when we were children, running in the corridors, screaming in pure bliss. I wish him to treat me with the same kindness that he granted me when I was present. I wish him to love me the same way I loved him all those years back. He knows nothing of what I wish. Then, why does he look at me that way. "Whatever I wish?"

"Yes." I rise from my throne, landing one foot onto the cold marble towards her. She's the same as I left her. The loud woman that demanded everything and everyone. This stubborn monarch in front of me reminds me of the person I once was. The child that did not know that horrors of the world. She was that barrier between the demons and the angels. And she went away. And I was left to fend for myself. "Whatever you wish."

His demeanor speaks to me differently. The way he's holding himself. The way he leans to me with eyes pouring into mine. Whatever I want. Is it the same as he wants?

I miss that girl that shielded me from the storm. That girl that spoke kind words to me when I sobbed on her shoulder. I will forever miss the girl that I longed for. I reach out to her hand. It raises up to me. The small gold ring present on her finger. I look back to her, my face going pale. She married.

His complexion changes. I never experience the immense need to cry in front of so many people so strongly. He stare at the ring on my finger. His pride crumbling around him. I try to look anywhere but his eyes as they search for mine. I cannot face the sadness of his expression.

I raise the ring to my lips, her hand still in my grasp. I kiss the finger the ring is placed upon. Her body trembles against me. I look to her. She's closed her eyes shut, trying not to let the tears spill. I move directly in front of her. My face close to hers. She brings in a long breath as she opens her eyes to find mine.

"I would like you troops out of my country."

I look down at her lips. The curvature of them as they speak no venom. They never could. "As you wish." I step away from her. The warmth of her hand leaving mine. I feel cold again. I walk up to the throne, my back to still facing hers.

"Long live King Henry V of England."

I turn back to her, her eyes still filling with tears. I sit at the throne. "Long live the Queen of Belgium." I wave my hand to the guards at the door. They open the large doors towards the large courtyard. And I dismiss the only woman I ever loved. She was gone before and I can bare her gone again.

AN: The King was fucking good.