Confessions of A King

He is power.

He owns vast lands—lands that stretch far and wide, acres of greenery and houses of stone. He can make anyone obey my every command. He has riches far beyond anyone could ever imagine. He holds positions in the military. He has knowledge unattainable by mere citizens alone.

So, why, in heaven’s sake, does Queen Heria of Wiharu want no business with him?

The silence in the throne room was interrupted by his loud groan and irritated stomp. The knights stiffened at the sudden motion, but regained their composure as the stomping turned into a rhythm. The king was most definitely not pleased.

“Sire, what is wrong?”

A collective gasp was passed in the room. Metal suits clanged as the knights in their shiny armour whipped their heads to the sudden question. To ask a question like that to the king—especially on a bad day—could lead to the speaker’s death.

To majority of the knights’ surprise, the king simply straightened his position and opened his mouth to speak. “It is a greater problem of mine to know that Queen Heria despises me completely. Why is this? We have known each other for quite a long time.”

The speaker of the question shrugged, and walked over to the king. He bowed, showing his respect. “Your highness, perhaps it is because of your short temper and ability to kill people for merely talking?”

To everyone’s greater surprise, the king simply dismissed the obvious display of disrespect. “What do you expect me to do?” he asked.

“Simple, your highness,” the knight replied, raising his head to meet the king’s ice-cold eyes. “Write her a letter.”

“A letter?” the king echoed, raising his right eyebrow. “What about?”

“Perhaps explaining your desire to acquaint with her,” the knight said, smiling. “A little hint of nice words must be enough to impress a lady.”

“I will take your word for it, young man,” said the king, amused. “Shall your—letter idea work, you will be promoted to a higher position.” A wide grin crossed the knight’s lips, and his eyes twinkled in delight. “Shall it not work, however, your sentence is—“ the king paused for added effect, “death.”

“That was to be expected, your majesty,” the knight replied. “And I am glad to be of help.”

The king stood up grandly, his robes designed with fine diamond brushing the floor as he did so. The knights simultaneously bowed as he passed, sharing secretive smiles when he wasn’t looking anymore.

King Hanz was in love.

The king pushed open the door to his study, groaning as the smell of dust hit his nose. He hadn’t been there for a while, and barely any sunlight passed through the tiny window at the corner. He lit the lamp on his desk, watching as it flickered to life before his eyes.

Blank parchment and ink already lay on the table, waiting to be written on. The king brushed away the little dusk on his chair, thanking whatever servant had brushed it before him, and sat down. He took the quill, dipped it in the ink, and allowed it to drop its remnants on the same bottle.

The quill hovered on the parchment. What was he going to write? What was he supposed to say? Should he start with greetings, a mere good morning, perhaps? But what if she received the letter at night? Then his greeting would be pointless and he would appear very queer.

Perhaps he should write what the letter was about. Yes, that seems appropriate.

Confessions of a King

King Hanz sighed and placed the quill in the bottle. What did that even mean? Written on the parchment, in his cursive, regal, handwriting, was Confessions of a King.

‘I should continue,’ he thought, taking the quill once again.

Greetings to you, Queen Heria of Wiharu.

He had greeted her appropriately, with no given time. Now, she could receive the letter anytime and he wouldn’t have to worry.

It is I, King Hanz of the North. It has come to my knowledge that you despise me. Why is that?

The knight had already given a suggestion as to why, but he couldn’t be so sure. Asking seemed like a better idea instead of writing what he assumed.

We have known each other since we were merely prince and princess, and I find it quite odd to see your open distaste only now.

I’m sure that you know I have to find a wife soon. My parents have been long deceased, and it is my responsibility to ensure that my kingdom has a second ruler next to me. I have chosen you out of many eligible bachelorettes due to our childhood friendship.

It may seem rude of me to tell you this now, especially after our last encounter.

King Hanz winced as he recalled their last meeting. Heria had been furious—when he had done absolutely nothing wrong.

He had simply been taking a walk with Princess Nessa, and when Heria had visited, she had crossed her arms and huffed in a very un-ladylike manner. It had occurred to him that she may have been jealous, and he had teased her about it a little later. This only infuriated the lady even more, and she stormed out of his palace, dignity lowered by a high degree.

Could it be that you really were jealous?

You have proclaimed since we were children that you hated me more than any other prince in the world, but I merely dismissed the thought as a joke. Correct me if I am wrong. If you were jealous, then you must not really hate me all that much.
I hope you reply soon. I have revealed more than I have allowed myself to, and I find this very unbecoming of my character.

I hope you take me up on my offer.

So he had written her a letter. How would he end it? Goodbye? Sincerely? L-love?

Yours truly,
Hanz