A Collection of Short Stories

The King (Darkiplier Fanfic)-Part Two

   He waved his hand, striding to the bench that sat before a small fountain, roses climbing over the lip of the basin. He sat, and Willow followed, sitting beside him. "You were busy. I did not mind waiting for you."

   She smiled in relief, allowing herself to relax. It was this time, at noon, when she'd meet the King of Shadows here. They'd talk about their night, and morning. Talk about news and gossip. He'd read to her, sometimes, about amazing adventures, and beautiful romances. She looked forward to each chapter for each day. "Will we be reading today?"

   "If you'd like."

   Shifting happily, she nodded, then waited, drawing his old cloak around her shoulders. He had given it to her soon after she got comfortable in the castle, so then she'd be warm, no matter where she went.

   With a chuckle, he pulled the book out from under his own cloak, the fur white with spots of black. He wasn't wearing anything gaudy today, which surprised her. He usually had some gold on him, which wasn't his staff that was currently propped up next to him. "Chapter Seven, correct?"

   Giving another nod, she faced him, smiling happily, hands placed neatly in her lap. "Yes."

   Smiling, he started the chapter. "'Light shines brightly in the morning. It has to, to wake wary travelers, wake happy families, wake lovely couples from sweet dreams of sweet nothings from their partners, tender touches, loving kisses, and joyful lovemaking. Our tired knight arose from his slumber in his room, rented from the inn. The light fell across his face, and he sat up to wash his face and hands, as is custom before leaving one's room to eat. But he wasn't going to eat with the happy family that ran the inn, but take it with him on the road, to share an apple with Luck, his grey steed. His love was still miles away, and there was little time to lose.'"

   Willow listened, smiling softly, staring at the fountain, and getting lost in the story. It was her favorite story so far, and The King's voice was deep, and calming. Sometimes she wondered if she would fall asleep, and miss the story. She didn't want to miss it, miss his reading voice, miss the voices he gave each character. After a while, she leaned against him, head on his shoulder, caught up. He glanced at her, still reading, then smiled, continuing, finger running over the sides of the pages of the book, which were starting to yellow with age. He didn't care for this story, but she loved it, would talk to him about it during supper, say what she liked, didn't like, suggest alterations that might make the story better. He loved hearing that. Her excitement, and knowledge on books. Once she had been taught to read, she spent her free time reading. He found her in the library often, cloak over her body, curled in a chair, face buried in a book.

   The King shut the book gently once he was done with the chapter, glancing over. "And we shall see if he accepts the witches' gifts to save his love tomorrow, perhaps."

   Willow sighed, but stood, stretching. "I really wish you could just read me a full book in one day."

   "I would be unable to talk the next day, I would think," he chuckled, standing as well. "Let us go back, and warm by a fire."

   Willow smiled at the thought, but raised a brow when he stretched out a hand. She glanced up at him, confused. He's never offered his hand to her before, but a kind smile sat on his lips, red eyes gentle. After a contemplating moment, she hesitantly stretched her arm out, and took his hand, feeling his cold fingers wrap around her's. She almost winced at the cold, but managed to smile, and allow him to lead her through the green hedges, back into the castle. The cold reminded her of her family, who she hasn't heard from since she'd been hired. The King said that they didn't want to distract her, but told the messenger to give her their regards, and to say how happy they are. She smiled sadly at the fact they never scent her a letter back, but knew that she should just be happy that they were finally living in comfort.

   "Does something trouble you?"

   Willow glanced up, shaking her head. "No, Sir. I guess I'm just a little tired."

   He made a small sound, a mix between a grunt and a laugh. "Then rest when we warm up. Your duties are done for the day."

   "The-!"

   "Duties are done," he repeated, turning towards the stairs which they climbed. They continued in silence, through the glass doors, through the echoing hallways, and into the study, where the fire roared, and tea was set and ready. "Please, sit," he said finally, releasing her hand, and watching her closely as she rubbed her hands together, sitting closest to the fire. He went, and poured her tea, handing it to her after adding sugar and cream, just the way she likes it. He saw her continued sad smile, heard the murmur of her thanks, and slowly sat beside her, forgetting to pour himself tea. "You do not need to overwork yourself."

   Sipping on the tea, she glanced over the lip of the cup. "Thank you, Sir. But I feel as if I must. For my family."

   A flicker of anger burst in his chest, causing him to tense, and take deep breaths to calm himself. "I... see. Even after all these years, you continue to care so deeply for your family."

   "Of course I do. I'm working for them," her smile became almost lonely, pink lips curled only slightly, eyes gazing into the fire. They seemed far away, and distant, recalling old memories. "I have to work for them."

   He crossed his legs, still frowning, studying her with an easy-going position on the love seat. He hummed, following her gaze into the fire, watching the flames lick the stone behind the fireplace, crackling from the wood. "What if I asked you to work for me?"

   "Well, I do work for you," Willow turned to face him, blinking. "You are my employer."

   A scowl crossed the irritated King's face. "That isn't what I mean, Willow. What if I were the one you were working for, instead of your family? What if I were that reason?"

   She blinked, not knowing how to take the question, and answer it. "I," she started, then tilted her head, truly puzzled. "I don't know, Sir. Really. What an odd question to be asking me," she took another sip.

   The King grabbed her wrist, yanking her up, and over, forcing her to sit in his lap. The cup fell out of her hand and onto the floor, tea spilling out. She gasped, eyes wide, cheeks pink. "Sir?" She asked a little shakily, wrists held tightly in his grip.

   "Work for me, not your family. Me."

   Willow studied him, appalled. What had gotten into him? Wasn't the reason why he was having her work for her family? He hired her to give money to them, so why change suddenly? "But... my family..."

   "Dead," he growled, eyes narrowed. "Killed the moment your letter was sent."

   All color drained from her face, and she tensed. It felt like a heavy rock was dropped in the pit of her stomach, her heart clenching. "What...?"