THE KING

The King looked down upon his magnificent court room where everything glittered; all was well.  His servants, the Trusted Ones had come to pay tribute.

Beside him the queen looked sympathetically at the huddle of worried looking royal advisors clustered in the shabby throne room which was in need of repainting.

“What news?” asked the King, without awaiting a response, “admire my new crown.  It came from Arcadious, the finest designer in the land!”

“Your Majesty, Lord Lucious and his armies are breaching our defences,” ventured the chief Trusted One.

“And my new steed is in the stables,” continued the King, “supplied by the Stud of Raahh, it will neither shed fur nor fart methane.”

“I’m afraid the stables are on fire,” pointed out the head Trusted One, “Lord Lucious is nearly upon us.”

“My darling,” said the queen, “pray ye take heed to your trusted man.”

The King waved his hand at the Trusted Ones; “Leave us!”

They gave him simpering smiles and withdrew.

The queen watched the Trusted Ones depart, shaking their heads and muttering.  The King then turned, his face inches from hers, his eyes darkening; “How dare you tell me what to do, woman!   You make me look weak!”

“Your Majesty, the Trusted Ones seek to point out that while you’ve been having crowns made for you by the most expensive designer you can find; and having an environmentally friendly horse found at great cost, your people have been starving.  For you have spent all the coin in the budget and they have called upon Lord Lucious to ...”

“Silence!” roared the King, “do not correct me, it is not your place.  You are here to smile and wave.”

“But your Majesty, Lord Lucious …”

“Enough!” the King took the queen by her arm and dragged her to her feet, he pulled her across the throne room to the door outside which the Trusted Ones waited and pushed her out among them.  They smiled at him approvingly.

The queen saw the looks of horrified sympathy on the faces of the Trusted Ones and was humiliated.  She could hear the roar of battle outside the walls, how could the King not perceive it?  She rushed to the tower to join the royal children.

“Come my darlings, we must go to the crypt where we will find tunnels which will allow us to escape, for Lord Lucious’ forces are imminent.”

“Daddy says Lord Lucious is his best friend,” princess Aurelia stated.

“Yes, Mummy, Lord Lucious would never invade, he’s fearful of father’s might,” prince Peter added.

“Silly Mummy!” giggled little prince John.

A cannonball slammed into the tower, causing it to shake, the children continued to play while the queen wondered what to do.

In the throne room, the King proudly showed the Trusted Ones his plans to expand his Kingdom.

“But your Majesty, you don’t own those lands anymore, you sold them to pay for fine tunics from Arcadious.  How do you think you’re going to be able to annex the lands next to them?” the chief advisor asked.

“Put him to death, he gives me a headache,” the King ordered his guards.

“Your Majesty, I cannot, the courtyard is over-run by enemy forces, look out the window,” the guard urged, face pale with fear.

“No, no, no,” the King responded, “I’m not going to be taken in by one of your jokes.”

The throne room door broke open and there stood Sir Lucious in all his fearful glory, surrounded by his men.

“Mercy!” cried the Kings’ guards and flung down their swords.

“Mercy!” cried the Trusted Ones and fell to their knees.

“Lucious, dear fellow!” the King greeted.

“I’ve come to take your Kingdom,” Lucious said, “here are the heads of your children and your queen who died bravely defending them.”  He emptied a bag and the severed heads rolled to the foot of the throne, “you have no lands, no offspring, your guards have surrendered and your people embrace me as liberator …”

The King waved his hand imperiously; “Well, you have made a bit of a start on negotiations.  I suppose I can offer you 30 per cent of my lands.”

THE 'RESCUER'

I met her at the hotel bar, she was sitting with her boyfriend and looking in every direction but his.  Her eyes met mine and held them long enough to feel significant.  Her boyfriend waved his hand in front of her face, clicking his fingers until he won her attention.
“That's better,” he said edgily, “what do you want to eat?”
“Whatever you say,” she replied.
He sighed; “Have the salad, meat’s wasted on you.”
I thought a beautiful woman like that could do better.  When she went outside, I did too and we stood in the warm night air.  She was Chloe, a primary school teacher and his name was Will.  We talked about my work as a college lecturer in physical education and the differences between the age groups we taught.  Eventually her cigarette burned down to her fingers and she had to go back.

I noticed that evening and at breakfast that he was never far from her, hovering, one hand usually on the small of her back.  It felt claustrophobic.  Her clumsy hand movements, soft voice and downcast eyes made me think she may as well be his prisoner.  The staff told me they had arrived at the weekend, that he was a venture capitalist, he talked to her disrespectfully in front of the waiters and the woman who cleaned their room had found blood on sheets and towels.  Jigsaw pieces incongruous on their own, built a nasty picture when put together.

At dinner the next night, it was clear that she was driving him crazy trying to appease him.  He’d ask her opinion and she’d say 'I don't mind', 'whatever you think', 'shall I have salad again?'  In the end he stood in the middle of the restaurant and shouted at her.  There was no point in him paying for this holiday if she wasn't enjoying it, if she couldn't even decide what she liked.  She wasn’t a pleasure to be with, she was fucking dull.  Then he marched outside and she followed.  I waited a moment and hurried out too.  She was lying in the courtyard and he was standing over her.  I'd seen enough.  He was muttering some excuse about pushing her in anger and her falling, I wasn't having it.  It wasn't long before he was on the ground, nose bleeding.  The waiters had to drag me away.  I looked at Chloe, she couldn’t be in any doubt of my ability to take care of her now, she'd seen the mess I'd made of Will.  I could tell by her face I'd won her.

Will couldn’t prosecute, he didn’t have a leg to stand on; he took an early flight home.  Chloe went back to my room and the next morning had breakfast with me.

“Now,” I said, trying to catch her eye, “what do you want?  There are eggs, pancakes, french toast …”
“Whatever you say,” she said softly, staring at the wall behind me, hands shaking slightly, “whatever you say.”