Maksimillian for Johnny

[p]Obrimore is [i]my[/i] kingdom. My word is law, my will is absolute and my power over the elements is incredible. The worms living off my lands...they mutter curses into their mugs of ale and cast charms against the evil eye when my carriage passes. They look like frogs, coated in mud with their potbellied children holding out spidery fingers to beg for coin. They'll get a boot in the behind if they wander too close to those soldiers paid to protect the royal presence. They are a convenient labor force, so easily replaced. Why should I waste good gold when they can always make more filthy brats?

[p]Their eyes are hollow as they watch my passage. The plague was no mere accident of nature. Bred in the bowels of my castle, fed on malice and magical intonations, it sought the hearts, minds and spleens of men and women that harbored even a seed of resentment for my steel-clad fist. Whether they be rogues trying to spread a message of revolution or mere pig farmers that had the gall to spit in my general direction...all are dead and rotting in a mass grave.

[p]It was my ultimatum, for what they did to Keamy.

[p]His suffering was their form of protest, for what [i]I[/i] did to Sinara. The perfect diplomat. A woman for the people. Fair Queen born of my father's loins to keep the bloodline of the royal family as pure as possible.

[p]In her presence, I felt only rage. I was doomed to a lifetime of attachment to a woman I found repulsive. Her easy speech and perfect posture made her Mother's jewel while father barked at me to sit straighter, ride with more dignity and stop sneaking into the baths to watch the knights swim in the great marble pool. Royalty bathed with royalty. It was tradition. It was protection. The touch of a lesser being...it was abhorrent. Father kept a special tonic of rosewater, bitter sage and the gods know what else hidden near the throne so he could hastily scrub his hands between blessing the ailing with the king's healing touch.

[p]I hardly remember my wedding feast. I [i]do[/i] remember the look of horror on Sinara's face when I threw her on the bed. The bruises on her arm...no lady's maid would [i]dare[/i] leave a mark. She had a honeyed tongue in front of dukes and baronets but there was no talking her way out of obeying her king. Mother and Father couldn't say a word. It is not for one king to tell another how to rule and the scepter had been passed. Total dominion over the realm, that was the law of the jeweled scepter.

[p]A good law.

[p]A year passed without an heir. I don't remember much of the endless string of nights. Whether we dined at state affairs or in the privacy of our shared chambers, every hour spent in the presence of my wife was an agony of boredom. I began to look for excuses to leave the castle, to avoid looking at that cow's face.

[p]The ebony carriage is my pride and joy. I'll entrust the fiery onyx stallions to none but my own hand. I could care less if they crush some hapless groom or foolhardy stable boy. It is the horses I seek to protect. Their like has not and never will be seen again in this or any kingdom.

[p]The blacksmith was in the process of fitting the new frame in place when his apprentice entered the room.

[p]Keamy. The lad's name. Gorgeous. Supple. Blessedly innocent and totally devoted to the commands of his king. The hair on his chin hadn't started to grow. A lad of thirteen...maybe fourteen years. He barely flinched when I rested a hand on his muscular shoulder, running my fingers over the firm muscles. I could hear the breath catch in his throat.

[p]Forbidden fruit. Delectable.

[p]That night I lay listening to the uneasy breathing of my wife, my mind twelve miles down the road, studying the contours of this bewitching lad.

[p]I returned to the village the next day, paying the blacksmith well for the boy's contract. I raised him from his knees.

[p]"You'll be part of my court, Keamy. I will teach you the ways of nobility."

[p]His eyes lit. He was no doubt envisioning a king's feast and the softest feather bed that gold could buy. "Yes, sire!"

[p]Sinara fades in my memory, a ghost even before she joined their league. I have thoughts only of Keamy.

[p]I gave him the best tutors in the land, the ones reserved for my heir...if my useless wife was even capable of producing one. Keamy devoured the lessons as readily as he ate his way through entire hunks of mutton and great berry pies. When there was a royal hunt, he was at my side to present the weapon of choice for bringing down a hind, a fox or a boar. When entertainers came from the farthest reaches of the land, I would make little figures of light for his amusement, making them dance, causing their heads to explode like rotted pumpkins or their limbs to spring apart, should it better suit the story being told. Tragic tales amuse me. Keamy turned green at first but he came to appreciate the subtle distinctions in execution techniques under my guiding hand.

[p]Did he truly love me when I laid him down and explored the planes of his flawless body? I was his whole world, his king and his lover. I was his healer when he took ill. I was his confidant. He showed me his adoration in a million small ways yet I could sense his uneasiness when Sinara shared the room.

[p]Getting rid of her was easy enough. A little magical suggestion whispered in her ear while she slept. The note was penned in her hand but the words had fallen from my lips.

[p]She hesitated on the ledge of the window, looking out toward the sea. She couldn't really see it, not sleep-drugged and addled as she was. Some stubborn thread of life gave her pause. I helped her overcome such hesitation. It would have taken only a gentle push.

[p]I hurled her as I had on our wedding night, as if the hard cobbles could be as forgiving as our marital bed. Her landing sounded like accusatory thunder, though I'd been careful to ban all servants in the courtyard upon pain of death. War games for my knights...only their orders had them drilling thirty miles away. A tactical maneuver my sister would have appreciated, her being so concerned with affairs of state.

[p]She hadn't been in the ground a week when I took Keamy to be my husband and declared him king under me.

[p]How the people revolted! They [i]are[/i] revolting enough...but ultimately weak and easily predictable. A few extra taxes, half a dozen unreasonable prison terms and a trio of particularly brutal public executions helped them to overcome their reservations.

[p]For the time being.

[p]I couldn't be bothered with the petitions and petty details that had taken up Sinara's time. My courtiers began to whine more and more about such dreadfully boring topics as road conditions, food shortages and the destruction of one or two county seats. Did they not have my knights at their disposal? Were they too stupid to see about hiring private security? Must I do [i]everything?[/i]

[p]Keamy, the dear, didn't know the first thing about ruling a kingdom, despite his years of education. He'd come to me, sometimes nearly in tears, begging my advice and praising it almost before the words had finished leaving my lips. Now [i]there[/i] was a subject who knew proper fealty. The more he stumbled, the better I looked and the more he adored me.

[p]Riots started.

[p]Knights began to abandon their posts in the night.

[p]Nobles refused to send their youths to court. Stiff fines and the threat of low-ranking marriages were not enough to convince a select group of fools to reconsider.
I was content to strip them of their titles and cut my losses.

[p]Until those former lords conspired with riffraff to kidnap Keamy.

[p]Their ransom was not gold or precious jewels.

[p]It was abdication of my throne.

[p]The language I used in my denial would have sent my etiquette teacher to an early grave.

[p]The peasants sent their demand a second time...with one of Keamy's fingers.

[p]So began our game of cat and mouse, with thousands of useless lives on one side, sickening and dying of the plague unleashed through my knowledge of the magical arts and one precious life being systematically destroyed.

[p]Their attempt to grow a backbone failed at last and the peasants gave up their revolt, as peasants are born to do. Keamy was returned to me, his body in ruin and his spirit on the brink of shattering beyond repair.

[p]Now the fields are full of rotting grain and the royal forest is choked by weeds. The peasants prostrate themselves before me, afraid to so much as peer at their king through half-raised eyelashes.

[p]Keamy often wakes in the night, his muted screams echoing through our chamber. He clings to me, begging me to be his shield, his soothing rainfall, his healing tonic. He will not let me out of his sight and when I tell him to do something, he does it immediately and with total obedience. I could ask him to murder his own mother and he would not flinch.

[p]My kingdom and my husband are mine to control.

[p]I wouldn't have it any other way.

[p]Story by [user=Pureflower]