His Queen

20.

"A son."

"Indeed, my lord."

"A son." Sardonic laugh resonates through the dark, tranquil chamber as his servant visibly flinches.

One.
His fingers curl into a fist.

Two.
His breathing quickens visibly.

Three.

"A SON?!" He roars, voice bone chilling and loud, such loudness that people throughout the castle were led to believe that maybe, just maybe, the sturdy walls they have once known might just collapse from the undeniable amount of the king's wrath.

He grips a golden chalice with it's contents full and he hurls it towards the raging fire of the furnace that resembles his heart.

"Seforaux has a prince?" He chuckles as he felt it.
Felt such raw rancor coursing through his heart.

"Alexa bore a son? She gave that unworthy man pleasure upon her flesh and upon her child?" He growls, facing the truthful servant.

A calm before the storm.
And oh, was he a raging storm amidst the calm chaos existing in his mind.

"THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME! NOT THAT FUCKING LANDRY, NOT ANYONE! THAT SHOULD BE MY KINGDOM REJOICING UPON THE BIRTH OF OUR CHILD, NOT HIS!" He screams, eyes turning dark as the darkest night as the poor servant flinches and then, just then the large doors of his study creaks open.

Eyes warm and docile and kind; brown.
Hair flowing endlessly down to the richly curvaceous dip of her waist.
Lips soft and warm like that of an angel.
Indeed; an angel is she.

But not to him.
Never to him.

For no matter how she kindly tried, the angel she sought to be resided in the warmth of Seforaux's king.
For no matter how she religiously tried, she will never be, in the eyes of her man;

Queen Alexa.

She will and always be the plain Queen Isabelle.
Oh, how many would kill to be King Edmund just to hold her precious hand.
Yet he; he that lies with her each night utters no word of love towards her; neither words of devotion upon her beauty and kind heart.

For he wishes to lie with somebody; somebody that never chose him upon the first glance.

A gentle whisper flits through the air;
"My dear husband; whatever is the reason for your undoubted anger?"

As cold as ice he is to her.
"My wife; I tell you to go now and retreat to our chambers for this concerns none of you."
And oh, how this pains her.
Stabs her heart with his unforgiving words.

"But-"

"GO!" He screams, head sharply turning to face her.

And slowly, and ever so quietly, with a wounded heart she retreats, tears spilling down her rose like cheeks.

———————

A year.

A year has passed and the second month of it flies by and yet, here she is; flat.

And that angers her more than she could say; as tears spilled down her soft cheeks.

She sees them as they sit upon the throne room; upon the grandiose feasts held at the castle. Eyes trained upon them with pure jealousy.
She wants it more than her heart could say for an infinite times.