Queens & Clowns

Heavy is The Head That Wears The Crown

The story about the princess and the pea was true. It had been a year since sleeping in my own bed, but I was still easily woken by the movements of my pea, the husband. The moment he rose I was unable to fall back into my slumber. Blinking blearily, I watched him rise from bed. The King of Quefland was a man of few words. In his youth, this had given him a mysterious, charming aura that paired well with his good looks. But like all beings, his looks had withered with age. It mattered not, for we were married.

I watched silently as he dressed himself, unaware that I had awoken. It had been another ... disappointing night. Joel had a kind, affirming gaze, but turned cold and distant the moment we were left alone. His words for me were even fewer than his words for the servants, and I could not begin to understand his frostiness towards me. Was it the generational gap, given that he was turning 69, and I 28? We both had the same royal upbringing, but perhaps it was that I was too young and naive to aid his rule. My jokes and attempts to lighten the mood often fell flat. The comedians of his age and the comedians of mine were simply too different to reconcile... I let out a petite sigh, secretly hoping he would turn to look my way.

Alas, he merely paused at the doorway. I pulled myself up into a sitting position. My empty womb felt terribly empty on this frigid winter morning.

"Caresse... I see you are awake," he murmured.

"No, my liege," I replied, "my eyes and mouth are merely wide open."

I waited for perhaps a small laugh, but he only sighed in response. This was what I meant when I said that the comedians of his age relied only on the most crude of jokes - the one time he laughed at me was when I stubbed my big toe at the crowning ceremony. As the queen, I was not about to throw away my dignity just to wrench a small chuckle from my stoic husband. Times had changed, and women were no longer flinging themselves over tables, chairs and staircases to get a little laugh out of their suitors. The wit of the mind was lost to a straightforward man like him.

"I will see you at the dining hall." With that, Joel left the room.

I stood up and drew open the curtains, letting the light in. It was a habit formed since childhood, but sleeping in the King's bedroom had refrained me from doing so. He was a man that enjoyed darkness and silence - I a princess that enjoyed light and noise. Beginning my day with such bright morning sunlight was essential to cheering myself up. I placed my palm to the window and felt the winter chill, refusing to feel lonely or chided, even in such moments. Yes, there were colder things than this.

I started my day with a familiar routine. After a year of marriage, I had finally gotten more used to the ways of the Quefland Kingdom. Although I was raised as the royal princess of Farthland, the customs here were much stricter. My hairstyle was always to be done up into two neat pigtails, symbolic of the Kingdom's most prized animal, the pig. Our largest source of trade with neighbouring kingdoms was livestock, due to our massive land space and poor soil quality. As the lore goes, the very premise of our Kingdom's founding was the trade of pigs.

There were so many archaic and strange customs like this that I had to get used to when I was betrothed to Joel. As the second princess of Farthland, I had little opportunity to visit Quefland and experience its culture. Similarly, I had seen little of Joel before this. I had only heard that he was a wise man - a kind man that ruled firmly over his kingdom. His previous wife had passed away, unable to bear a child. And now I was expected to gift him an heir.

After doing my hair and makeup, I was left to go about my own business until noontime. Seeing that Joel was busy in the Cabinet, I moved to my favourite place in the Castle. Behind the dining hall was a small clearing. The cooks and maids often threw out leftover produce onto the clearing for the crows to feed on, so no one had much business coming here. Of course, I did not come here to slurp up the remains of lunch and dinner from the ground. This small clearing, known to few and unused by many - was the perfect practice grounds for our court jesters.

I pulled on my wig which covered my pigtails and hurriedly turned the corner. "Antonio! Antonio, are you here?"

"Her majesty the Queen!" Antonio exclaimed, bending at the knee. "I am glad to see you here once again."

"Her majesty," A chorus of voices sounded from behind him. A crowd of clowns kneeled and offered up their red noses to me in greeting.

"No need for that, we're well acquainted," I said, beckoning for them to stand. "Go back to practicing."

I watched with a smile as the court jesters went back to their work. The noise rose to a hullabaloo once again as they practiced their juggling, card tricks, and sprayed water at each other. Although the chaos might have looked like a bunch of irredeemable fools playing around, I had observed them for long enough to see the steely determination in their eyes. Their dedication to the art of laughter and humour was something that I loved seeing. In the beginning, I had only come to learn from the masters who had managed to make my husband laugh. But now, I was truly beginning to enjoy seeing their work as they sculpted it. Although it might have been unbecoming for a woman such as me to be here, being around the clowns whom I was beginning to call friends was brightening up my daily life.

"Show me what you have today, Antonio," I smiled.

"Yesiree, My Majesty," he replied with a bow.