“But your Majesty, how will you please me?” The prostitute asked, cocking her head playfully. “Your cock is so small, my 6 year old brother is more manly than you are.”
And what would the tyrant do then? Why? He killed her of course. Because what better way to show your virility than killing a woman? One who is telling the truth at that.
For as he is impotent in the bedroom, so is the tyrant in the throne room: small, incapable of answering his people’s needs. He would rather kill those who tell the truth than heed their words and make the changes this kingdom needs.
How long should we have a gormless man lead us who makes our country look like a bunch of fools?
The entire court shuddered, as the messenger read the lampoon. He’d gone paler by the word. By the time he read the last sentence he was shaking on his feet, probably wondering whether he’d die for allowing others to hear it. That he begged the king not to read it in the presence of witnesses was irrelevant. In this the author was right though not one of them would dare say it. The silence was deafening, only the clock ticking disturbing it with its relentless tic tok.
Anger could be read in every line of the king’s face; before the messenger went to his knees, most of the court had shuffled away that they might not be in the King’s line of sight when his rage exploded. Only his First Counselor didn’t appear afraid. In fact, he bended slightly and whispered some words in the King’s ear. Their ruler smiled, stood and walked away from the room.
Everyone had gathered; the King had summoned them and nobody would dare disobey. Punishments and death sentences had been handed out faster in the past few weeks than ever before. Every voice in the realm that had risen against his ruling had been silenced. Scared, as they were, the court members hurried to the throne room upon hearing the bells mere minutes before. As the King entered, silence fell upon the room. Again the incessant tic tok of the clock was the only sound. So they all heard the slight creaking of the door behind them when it opened.
The First Counselor came in pulling behind him – on a leash – one of the most intriguing creatures they’d ever seen. Well, the creature itself was not unknown but the sight of it in its nakedness was definitely new. Some women turned around prudishly. The magician who advised their ruler bowed deeply. He’d been gone some time, ensuring the King’s law was followed. Most knew he was behind the King’s law but again few would say anything.
“My Lord King. I would offer this gift to you. It has been a long search and though rarely perilous, it’s been fraught with obstacles.”
The King nodded.
“Will you tell us your quest to capture such a gorgeous creature Lord Raven?”
“I will my liege. You ordered me to find the creature that would remind all your people and the kingdoms around us that yours wasn’t a weakening rule. That this rarest being would become your wife and carry your heirs, showing to all that your virility and power were intact.”
He paused until the King nodded again allowing him to continue his tale. It was a tale, and soon everyone listened to it, enthralled.
“I rode hard on the heels of a rumour that the creature was hiding in the Forest of Dimmelwright. For days I searched for her in the woods, in vain. I returned to the village that my mount could rest and inquired about her. Some willing subjects revealed where I might find her at a certain time of day.”
The King stood and stepped down the throne, approaching the magician. There he observed his gift. Everyone in the room stood, enraptured by the tale woven by the narrator.
“I shrouded myself with magic for I knew she would notice my passage. She’s precautious and in fact, despite the shield I willed around me, she felt me. She hesitated for a while before she actually entered the river where I hid. She was – and is – gorgeous, her dark curls hugging her body in the most enticing way. Her doe eyes speak of innocence but she is wily and canny. She almost escaped me.”
“Yet, here she is.” The King interrupted extending his hand.
“Here she is your Highness. As you wanted her to be.”
He relinquished the leash to the King who forced the prisoner on her knees. Pulling a dagger from his belt, he made her look up to him. There was a cruel smile playing on his lips.
“She can’t talk?”
“No your Highness.”
“And the writing?”
“So she’s merely a creature of needs?”
“As you wanted her.”
“Whatever you want it to be your Highness. She remembers what she wrote. She knows this is her punishment for trying to discredit you. But she is broken, a mare brought to a stallion.”
A few people skittered. That metaphor was a little obvious and crude, but the King didn’t appear to notice or to mind. He unbuckled his belt.
“You will be the proof that even my staunchest enemies bow under my rule. They will hate you. Because you’ll have become my whore.”
The woman hissed. She lunged at the king, grabbing the dagger he held. Had his trousers not been down to his knees he might have wrestled the weapon away. As it was, he couldn’t. And before anyone, even the magician, could intervene, she’d plunged the dagger in the king’s neck. He looked at his magician, gaped. But his Counselor did nothing.
“I told you Highness. She’s a creature of needs. She needed to kill you, free the kingdom from you. So I could take it. She’ll be my whore.”
The woman knelt at his feet. The court followed suit and hailed the new king, as the old one died drowning in his own blood.
In response to the Deviant Art prompt speech and incorporating the writing prompt clock from the Daily Post