Morass
King Emir was maundering within his chamber. As his bed came at sight, he slowly walked towards it and sat down on its edge; sagging the soft mattress temporarily with his weight. His hand began fidgeting while his mouth kept blabbering words - words attacking his own son; words attacking his mistress; words attacking almost everyone he saw during the orare. "Witless, witless subjects!" he hissed.
The door swung open and the king twitched upon hearing the sound of it. His head immediately shifted and saw a man in full golden armor.
Oman set foot inside until he was just arm's length from the king. He bowed before laying his eyes at him. "Aristocrats and courtiers are seeking your audience, Your Majesty."
The king closed his eyes and groaned. He put his left hand on his temples and without looking at his kingsguard, he strongly motioned a dismissive wave of his hand. "Send them away," he ordered with a firm yet slow voice.
"Your Majesty-"
King Emir wagged a finger and his flaring pupils looked directly at Oman's eyes.
Oman noticed the formation of a crease in his forehead and droplets of sweat near his eyebrows and sideburns; his golden eyes were beaming yet the irises surrounding his pupils strike with a darker orange. He knew then. Nothing good will yield if he spoke his mind. Oman broke eye contact and bowed his head down. "I'll let them know, Your Majesty," he responded and left the room.
***
Queen Pasha exited from her chamber and walked on the long corridor. It was lit by fires hiding behind lamps fastened symmetrically throughout the parallel walls.
Following the queen, while maintaining a one-pace distance behind her was a maiden wearing iron corset armor that matched her gauntlet, pauldron, scabbard, and neck armor over a navy-blue tunic dress. The skirt was framed with black swirling elements along the hem, complimenting the center stripe. Her skin was ivory and her blonde hair was pulled away from her face, knotted at the back.
The queen slightly tilted her head to the left lowering her gaze to the maiden's waist. She saw her groping the handle of her sword as they walk. "Shame," she blurted out.
"Your Majesty?"
"Thy sword has never been used, Hulan. Eight seasons by my side yet not once thou had taken that out ought to defend me. Art thou not weary yet?"
"Standing by your side is an honor itself," Hulan responded without batting an eye.
The queen halted and faced her guard. "Thou aren't supposed to retort. More so when thy words are empty. Have thou learned nothing all these seasons?"
Hulan was quick to genuflect. "Forgive me, My Queen."
Queen Pasha lowered her gaze for a moment but turned her back continuing the walk.
The maiden raised her face and watched the queen getting farther. As she stared at her figure covered in velvet emerald green dress, her mind was just blank... as always. She had nothing to worry about. The queen stayed quietly within the palace walls through the years; being involved in almost nothing. Honour? Fie, no! She regretted fighting for the spot years ago. Her predecessors made the responsibility sound remarkable but truth be told, it was nothing but a fancy title.
"Rise, Hulan. Bear with the weariness a little more. Thy sword is ought to be yielded soon enough," Queen Pasha said as the sound of her shoes kept clicking on the polished stone floor.
Hulan's ears rung with what she heard. She felt a glistening mist to her face that seemed to sparkle. She inhaled as if it was the first time she had breathed. Her lips curled into a faint smile but her insides were already craving for the thrill. Hulan stood up and followed her majesty half-running.
As soon as she maintained the consistent one pace between them, the queen took a turn in a corner. Not too far from them was a man in metal armor of gold. The lights were momentarily refracting on his armor. He was walking opposite their direction and seemed to intersect with them at one point. His face is clear. It was Oman, the kingsguard.
"Your Majesty," he uttered as he paid his respect. "The king-"
"Is hiding," the queen jeered.
"The king is unwilling to grant the regals an audience," Oman finished.
The queen blinked and lifted her shoulder in a half shrug blurting out a contained sound of a faint laugh. "Always a coward; always a fool. Setting something on fire yet lack the audacity to put it out."
"I presume you would handle it this time, Your Majesty?" Oman said.
"With elegance," the queen retorted.
Oman bowed and shifted his posture to the side giving her majesty the aisle to walk. Afterward, he followed and walked beside the queensguard with about a foot gap in between.
They paved their way into the Throne Room where courtiers and aristocrats across the sovereign gathered awaiting the king.
The double doors creaked as it revealed the queen with the kingsguard and her queensguard. Almost immediately, the chatters died out yet the queen received no more than surprised stares coming from men standing in disarray positions.
Her brows snapped together. "Bow thy heads or these two will make thee," she threatened.
Gobi Timor, the legate of Luxus, was the first to react accordingly. "Forgive us, Your Majesty."
The rest repeated the phrase with a louder voice and lower bows.
Queen Pasha darted her eyes away from them and centered her sight to the throne instead. She walked forward with the regals' heads remained down. Hulan and Oman stood up beside the elevation as the queen continued stepping up the stairs to the throne. She caressed its armrests and heat quickly curled down her spine with the beaming of her lips.
The legate of Luxus slowly lifted his head and the others followed. They witnessed the queen as she sat on the throne. Once again, the regals rounded their eyes. Even the guards standing beside the throne momentarily laid their eyes to the queen.
"Your Majesty!" Oman called. "Forgive my malevolence but only the king has the privilege to sit on the throne."
"It is a treacherous act, Your Majesty!" the legate of Sabyldum spat out.
"Hulan."
The queensguard shifted her position facing the queen and bowed, "Your Majesty."
"The time has come," Queen Pasha drooped her eyes. "Unsheathe thy blade."
In a blink of an eye, the legate spewed blood; the queensguard had stabbed his gut and slid the sword up to his heart. The lifeless body fell down the cold floor, eyes opened wide.
The regals gasped and mouthed curses - a sound like squeaking rats to the queen's ears. "Men," she scoffed.
Hulan then swayed her sword to Oman but the latter was quick to dodge. He, then, pulled out his long sword and deflected another attack from the queensguard. The swords clanked and the clash sent the two a whole pace and a half away from each other.
The regals stepped back as the two walked in circles holding their swords up while facing each other.
"Tell me, Oman. Thou art loyal to whom?" Hulan teased. "Standing beside the queen, and defending the king moments after."
"I serve the sovereign," he responded. "Treason is treason!"
The swords met once again and the two high ranking palace guards moved backward and forth. Eventually, Oman disarmed Hulan and swung his sword at her again. Hulan bent her body dodging the sword and grabbed a dagger from the inside of her boots. She glided on the floor and injured Oman's knee - a part uncovered of his armor.
Oman vented a suppressed moan but attacked his opponent swiftly, but Hulan held his arm midway, and using the other hand holding the dagger, she sliced his throat. Oman's body crashed down the floor and his armor rang as it hit the ground.
Queen Pasha darted her eyes away from the duel and spoke to the regals. "Treacherous act, they said," she knitted her brows. "Yet thou all art here believing a divination and questioning thy king's authority."
Silence enveloped the four corners of the room.
"From this day forth, courtiers will answer to I, and I alone. The king has an impending doom as the Prince mentioned in the synagogue. Those who will remain faithful shall suffer the misfortune. Any dissent?"
Regals stole glances at each other.
Gobi Timor genuflected. "The province of Luxus swears allegiance to you, Your Majesty."
Legate of Ogra, Eren, Gazda, Daun, and Asvhe kneeled and uttered similar words as the legate of Luxus.
With the legate of Sabyldum dead, Queen Pasha flashed her eyes to one of Sabyldum's alive aristocrats. He genuflected straight away and swears the service of his province.
"Hear this all of thee!" a smile tugged in her lips. "I, Queen Pasha, declare Prince Lazmet as the heir to the throne. Defy him and thou defy I."
***
"Your Majesty, the king will hear about this," Hulan punctuated as soon as all the regals left the throne room.
"From whom? From thee?" she said as she stood up from the throne.
Hulan offered her hand and escort the queen down the stairs. "The palace has ears."
"Is that so?" she removed her hand from her and walked. She halted near the dead kingsguard.
"That golden armor is such a waste," Queen Pasha mumbled. "Be wary, Hulan." She glanced at her side. "Act too like of a man, and death shall come early; act too like of a woman, and apathy shall devour thee."
"The palace is a dangerous place. I understand that, Your Majesty." Hulan said.
"Yet, thou art not in danger. Never, I suppose. Thou art a woman in man's clothes - not entirely. But the advantage is thine."
Hulan's forehead furrowed. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. But I just butchered the kingsguard and a courtier while my queen is seated on the throne. I am as near to danger as I could be."
"My, my, retorting again," Pasha scorned. "Doubt me not and have faith. The king is helpless."
"Conflict will arise, my queen. Men would not allow women to rule above them."
"Oh, believe me. Men are too witless to resist women's bewitchment," the queen sneered.
They continued walking out to the throne room when they heard echoes of the queen's name being called. It was the king, clamoring all over the hall. Behind him is his steward.
"Kill the steward," she whispered to Hulan.
The steward's eyes rounded and his footsteps attempted to run. But it was too late. Hulan had already swayed her sword, and blood splashed all over the floor and walls.
"Pasha!" King Emir yelled; eyes and nose flaring. He pointed a finger at her face. "I shall not tolerate this insolence!"
"Oh, Emir. Thy authority no longer exists."
The palace heard a growling thunder billowing in his baritone voice. "Thou cannot remove a king!" he said.
Queen Pasha brought her hand close to her lips, lowered her head a little, and allowed laughter to escape from her mouth. "Shame," she plastered a serious face and met his striking fiery eyes with hers. "Thou art no king," she uttered every single word intensely, looked him down, and smiled.
She walked past him; her heels clicking and clacking louder as she put more pressure on her footsteps.
Hulan followed her keeping the one pace distance in between them.
The king remained standing and staring opposite the direction of the queen. "I never should have married thee," he mumbled.
It echoed across the hall and the queen's uplifted lips downturned. Her steps halted and a fang of ache crossed her heart.
"Father once said, 'She'll be the end of you, Emir. When that day comes, you'll wish you had listened.' And I said, 'I care not for she is all I need. If I must give up the throne so I can marry her, I will.'" The king sounded a faint laugh. Then, he chortled. It got louder and louder that he fell to his knees and tears escaped from his eyes.
But he was not laughing; he was whimpering. The queen knew and she glanced sideways, about to turn her back. For a moment, she wanted to run back and encircle her arms to his chest. She wanted to feel his warmth, lean her head to his shoulders, caress his cheeks, smell his musk scent on the neck, hear the beating of his heart... but, no. She resisted the urge. Instead, she said, "Thy incompetence is the end of thee, not I."
And she continued her walk. She felt a weight pushing her down; the fabric of her clothes getting heavier for each step she made. She cannot believe it. All these years of anger, disgust, and contempt; the resentment turned into hatred... and she was longing to embrace him. She was longing to embrace the man who neglected her, who blamed her for all of his mistakes, who shut her out into the shadows. It was cruel. Love is cruel. Her knees wobbled that she lost her balance and pressed her hand to the wall.
"Your Majesty!" Hulan grabbed her arms and supported her to stand upright. "Are you not well?" she worried.
"I suppose," the queen answered. "But it matters not," she tapped her skirt gently and breathed before began stepping her heels again. "The Prince is freed from prison. Let us make haste."
~~~~~~
Footnotes:
Regals - all nobles - courtiers, aristocrats
Season - year
Fie - an expression of disgust or outrage
Courtiers - legates of provinces
Legate - official ambassador
Aristocrats - nobles but have no official ranks in the court
Witless - foolish
*Usage of thou/thy/thee/thine between royals with a similar rank can be a form of an insult if spoken around many people, but if it was just between themselves then it isn't an insult, they're just being family, intimate.
* Usage of thou/thy/thee/thine between soldiers or common people are not insults but normal.