(I Don't Have A Name Yet)

The King

"Look what the cat dragged in!" The king announced, smiling broadly at his webmaster as she strolled into his study. Sitting with him at a large table filling the room were two of his advisors, both former tutors that he had only really appreciated once he became king. The spymaster bowed to the king, grinning back even though she tried not to.

"My problematic spymaster, what news do you bring me?" The king asked her, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "Or do you just take my money like a financial leech?" The spymaster laughed as she took a seat opposite the king.
"I didn't spend all of it, " She dug out a few notes and couple of coins to show the king. The king raised his eyebrows, feinting suspicion that the spymaster waved aside.
"My king, one of the lords have been spreading rumours about the crown and your legitimacy, " She replied. And with a few soft words, the King's good mood was ruined.

"Again?" He exclaimed, rubbing his face. "What do they want, my birth certificate?" The spymaster shrugged and reached across the table to get an apple.
"Those could be poisoned, " The king pointed out, sullenly.
"Bertie, who would've poisoned you? The cook?"
"Maybe, " The king grumbled.
"The cook loves you even more than my grandma does," The spymaster replied. The king shrugged, remembering countless pats on the cheek and boxes of cookies and felt his cheeks grow hot.

"Mila, your news proves that people don't like me, " The king said, dodging as Mila threw a pen at him. This started an argumemt that The advisors tried and failed to follow along.
"What..." the older of two began.
"Something about how one small group disliking The kind doesn't mean everyone hates him," the younger one answered with a small smile. " You get used to their arguments after a while. "
The two advisors glanced at each other as Mila called Bertie a whale but weren't surprised at how informal the spymaster was with her king. Mila had practically grown up with him: her father was a general in the King's army and her mother had been an ambassador from one of the Northern countries, a favourite companion of the last King and Queen.

"Bertie, there was probably only 10 people, including the lord, discussing these rumours, " Mila said, her firm voice and solid reasoning ending the argument. The King gave a small fleeting smile, a sign that only Mila knew meant he was going to do something stupid, before collapsing back in his chair.
"It's no use!" He declared as his advisors watched him, not amused. "Nobody likes me at all! It's only a matter of weeks - no, days - until my first assassination attempt!"
Mila rolled her eyes before leaning forwards as if she had another important secret to tell her King.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that, your majesty. I hear the new chambermaid, Helen, quite likes you."

The king opened his eyes to watch Mila laugh at him before standing up.
"Okay, everyone, the meeting's over. Get out of my rooms, " He announced, with a hint of a sulk, as he followed everyone out to the entrance hall.
"Not you, thief, " Bertie said as his spymaster began to slip out of the room.
"I am not a thief, that makes me sound so violent and hostile, " Mila argued, turning on her heel. One of the advisors, Leon, sighed as left the apartments.
"Mila, I swear you've literally killed a man before, "
"Yeah, to keep you on your throne, " Mila pushed past the king to her favourite room in his apartment.

The large windows looked out onto the shopping and market area of the city and the tall metal-enforced brick walls that surrounded the capital city. Sunlight lit up the rest of the room, showing the navy blue armchairs and complex Eastern rugs in rich colours. Around the rooms were various paintings, including one of the Northern country that Mila's mother was from, with the castle and the mountain range behind it filling the gilt frame.

Bertie watched Mila sigh in contentment as she gazed out at the city. Bertie often thought of Mila looking like a proud spider surveying it's web when she did this.
"What did you need?" Mila asks, turning to stare at him. Her eyes were a shifting hazel, sometimes bright and sometimes murky like the river that flowed through their beloved city.

Bertie rubbed his neck nervously before settling into the nearest armchair. Mila turned back to the window for a moment before sitting on the rug in front of his chair.
"Bertie, you're the king and 2 months older than me so stop acting nervous, " Mila said.
"Wow, I don't think you've ever willingly admitted that before," Bertie said in mock amazement. He yelped when Mila pinched his leg.
" Well, if it makes you talk, my wise and ancient king, " Mila answered, glancing back at him with a smile.
"I'm only 19," the king grumbled. "You're making me sound really old."
"You are old, that's why you can't get a wife, " Mila teased, laughing when the king tried to aim a kick at her. "Look, I'll even put my pistol and knives on the table."

Mila placed her pistol and knives on the table with great care and looked up to see her king raising an eyebrow at her.
"We both know that's not all of them, " he said, pointing to her head where there was a sharp needle keeping her golden hair up. Mila sighed and pulled it out and set it on the table before glaring at Bertie.
"Stop stalling and speak." She said and the king gulped.

Author's Note: Not sure how I feel about this but I wrote something for once! Hope you enjoy this and feel free to say anything in the comments.