Playing With Fire

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She placed herself down onto the golden throne. Her black ash colored dress draped across the large steps below and continued to stretched to the bottom. Her aura seemed to dominate everyone in the room and she impatiently waited. Eyes towards the front, they waited with her.

A king was coming. One who could rule beside her with grace, but not rule over her. He would be born within the town she claimed rights over. The king would gladly accept the request to marry her.

She refused to believe someone would be capable of staying by her side. Someone of lower stance and little wealth could not control a country with her. It was impossible.

Queen Imara had no choice to accept it, though. Her father, the previous King of this country, ordered that she weds before next spring. If she fails to marry someone within her land, it will be taken away.

So she waits, eyes glued to the falling leaves outside of the palace doors. The crisp, cold air blew into the room and nipped at everyone's bare skin. Leaves drifted inside onto the floor, but were immediately brushed out.

Taking a deep breath of the sharp air, Queen Imara voiced her thoughts. "Why haven't they showed?"

Some servants flinched slightly from the boom of her voice. The others simply turned away from the palace doors to look at the ground. A personal servant bowed before her to answer instead.

"My Queen, it takes time to search your land for the right husband. We must be patient."

Imara glanced at the girl who kneed before her. Angrily, she glared at the girl and growled out her response. "Make it promptly! I should not have to wait for you useless people to fetch me a husband." Her eyes were wide and filled with petulance.

It has been two months since the day she received that letter. If she doesn't find a husband soon, the land she rules over shall be her sister's. And having to give something that belongs to herself, to her immature and naive younger sister, would infuriate her to no end.

She had been Queen since her sixteenth birthday. When her fair, beautiful, and wise mother died, she was forced to take over. With her father hiding in some random area, Queen Imara has been the contessa for six years and will not back down so easily.

If all she had to do was wed a man from her Kingdom by the next spring, than that was what she would do. With time ticking away, though, she became far more impatient in waiting for him to arrive.

"They're here!" A voice shouts happily. The palace stirred awake, murmurs flooding the room and slight excitement emitting from each of them. Everyone lined up beside the throne, making room for the new king to arrive.

Queen Imara rose, eyeing the carriage that pulled up to the palace. As it stopped, a man jumped from his front seat to the back doors. He widened the door for someone to exit and held out his hand.

The room became silent. Everyone awaited the arrival of their king, and as he slowly left the carriage, they eagerly tried to get a glimpse of him. Just as he entered the lit palace, the Queen commanded control.

"Enough. This is not how we act?" Her voice made the servants straighten and wait. "Did you forget who he is suppose to be?"

After no response, Imara glided down the stairs and towards the man she was to wed. With a slight flick of her hand, the palaces doors were closed behind him. She reached out and gripped his face, turning look at each side of him.

His soft, flawless face was punctured by the slight indent of the Queen's nails. The man stared at her with a soft gaze and a warm smile. When she dropped his head, he bowed slightly.

"Speak."

Imara narrowed her eyes at the bright shade of blonde that was his hair. He lifts his head once again to address himself. "My name is Nam-joon, Kim, your Majesty," he answers proudly.

The contessa stays silent for a moment, eyeing the man before her in raw confusion. She hadn't the slightest idea how this man could make a proper instructor, let alone a king. Her people brought back someone who would be least likely to make a king.

"What is this?" She asks. "Is this some kind of amuzing thing to you all?" Her eyes harden on everyone in the room.

"My Queen-" Nam-joon interjects, his angelic smile still present. "I had filled every necessity required to become your husband. This is no joke."

Taken aback, the Queen frowns and steps away. "You have everything?" She almost whispers, shock lacing her voice. She couldn't believe such a commoner could fit the desideratum needed to become an emperor.

Her eyes trail over his attire. Taking a sharp breath inward, the Queen turns away. The long trail of black cloth followed her back the the throne. When placing herself back onto her royal chair, she commanded servants to ready him for the night.

"You were not expected after two months of empty hands," explains the maid magnate. She places a hand onto Nam-joon and guides him away from the palace doors. "This is very exciting indeed!"

Queen Imara watched them leave before she was interrupted by her personal server, Hayleigh. Hayleigh, once again, bowed before her Majesty before speaking. "Does this mean you accept him, my Queen?"

Imara hesitated on her answer. Her eyebrows furrowed angrily as she contemplated the question. "There is no other option, yes?" She didn't wait for the reply. "We must do whatever it takes to keep this country from going into my sister's hands."

"Yes, your Majesty," the girl quietly says. She walks away from the stairs after that, and doesn't return. Imara's mind drifts to the man sitting in her room, wondering how they could manage to find a commoner with such knowledge. She started to think of how frustrating it would be to work side by side with him.