"You Will Never Be My King."

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   "I will not bow to a prince who wears a crown bejeweled with the precious lives he's taken." I proclaim. Tobias rises from his golden, over-grown throne and takes a leisurely step off his royal platform. He stops, still a few steps above me, forcing me to raise my chin in order to see him.
    "Didn't you hear Irisa?" He coos, his sickening voice coated in falsely thick, gooey innocence. "It's King now, not Prince; so bow."
     "No." My reply comes swiftly, with decision. I know he will behead me for my words, with no regards to our childhoods and how we grew up together. With no regards to or famous duo of, "the prince and his kitchen princess." Hah. It's laughable to hope for Tobias' mercy. After all, he poisoned his entire family just to have the throne.
   "Oh, you won't bow to your own King, my dear Irisa?" He taunts, gliding down yet another step.
    "You will never be my king."
    "How disappointing, but I suppose if I'm not the king then you can't be the the royal cook." He pauses, stroking the stubble on his chin, with a poised patience. "However, I might be able to land you a job as the town hag." his hawk-like eyes rake over me once more, I feel violated just standing here.
Oh how I despise him.
    "Then again," he sneers, "with those raggedy clothes you might as well just be a wandering prostitute."  I try I force myself not to glance at my shards of clothes, not to blush, not to be ashamed by the torn cloths  I wear, but my own body's betrays me. My eyes flick down to my grime covered rags, left in shreds due to the Royal guard's spears. Wandering over the exposed patches of scraped and bloodied skin, covering my torso, my eyes crinkle at the state I'm in. I hadn't registered how wounded and disheveled I appear until now.
   Shaking my head, and clearing away my self pity, I refocus on Tobias.
    "I see I still have an affect on you after all my dear." My blush deepens, against my will, at his smug words. I don't open my lips, praying that my silence will hold power. "Cat got your tongue Irisa?"  I don't reply. "Well then," he continues, "I might as well call my guards back in here just to cut out your tongue if you don't use it soon." Fear grips my belly as I realize I'll never speak again if I don't speak soon.
     "Five, four, three," he begins to count down, like a scolding parent. "Two, on-"
    My words explode from me, against my consent. "Fine, fine, I'll talk!"
    "Ahh, so my fiery little lady does talk." He remarks.
    "I am not your little lady, but I would so love to burn you with fire Tobias." I say sweetly.
       "You should have stick with the kitchen crew Irisa," his eyes darken, and if I didn't know him better, I would say a hint of remorse flitted across his face. " I could have kept you alive, at least, in there. Maybe one day I could have promoted you, payed you in gold instead of bronze. You could have had a comfortably, long life in the kitchens my dear, but you just had to go an rebel didn't you?" His dark eyes fill with clouded anger. "You couldn't just be content now could you? You couldn't just be happy for me finally  becoming king? No, Irisa, you had to go lead a staff rebellion against me."Now, Irisa, you're going to die, and die young."
     "I would rather die young, than live to a ripe old age serving a murder." I spit out.
    "And die you will, old friend, die you will."  Suddenly, he bounds down the few remaining steps between us and, instantly we're nose to nose. I can hear my heart hammering, feel his breath. Once upon a time I would have wished for a scenario much like this, one where we stood so close our lips practically touched, but now, I wish for a knife. I wish I could stab him. He deserves to die. I decide I shall leave him with a few parting words before he calls the guards back in here to carry me away.
    "I hope you live to be an old man, Tobias; and I hope you live every single one of your long remaining days regretting today. I hope you place another gem in that crown of yours to mark my murder. And I pray, pray that your crown weighs down  so heavily on you that  that you can't live with yourself anymore. And when that day finally comes, when you realize you can't live with yourself anymore, I hope I have a front row seat in the afterlife to watch you waste away into your elderly years."    
      I watch as his mouth drops open, as any tint of remorse leaves his face. I watch as any love he ever held for me is replaced with burning, searing hatred, and once his lips begin to part, in order to call for his guards, I smile. I smile because, for once, our feelings are mutual. For once, he despises me as much as I utterly despise him.
     "Guards!" His thundering words seem to echo across the room. I watch as he backs away from me, receding up his Royal stairs. I watch as he graciously descends backwards into his throne. I listen as the great, oaken throne-room doors, slam open. I feel the guards rushing toward me, but I don't break eye contact with Tobias.
I watch as his lips form my death sentence.
      "Kill her now." His voice is strangled with hatred, and I smile as I hear a steel hiss of a sword being drawn. I don't look away from Tobias as I'm forced onto my knees and the sword is lifted above my neck.
As I hear the sword hissing through the air I stare Tobias straight in the eyes and whisper, just clear enough for him to read my lips.
     "Long live the king."
      The sword strikes and I cease to exist.

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