The King's Man

It would be my masterpiece. A story lovely enough to shake his hardest of hearts, to bend him to my adoration. Finally, my King and I will see our friendship blossom to something more.
As I strutted down the castle corridor, bobbing and humming in tune to the wedding processional song in my head, I gave the tight scrawl from the King’s Chancellor one final read. My story would fit the report I was supposed to give. Today would be my day.
The Chancellor met me at the top of a long flight of steps, thin arms wrapped around his narrow chest. He scowled towards me. “Don’t waste our time today.”
I twirled my mustache and winked at him. “Whatever could you mean?”
“You’re lucky you’re his man. If I had my way—” He shook his head. “Let’s get this over with.”
The King’s man. If only he knew… although he must suspect. The Chancellor pushed the double purple doors open. A long, well-trodden carpet led the way to the King on his gilded throne. His beringed fingers made tracks in his luscious beard, and he relaxed into his seat as recognition flashed across his wizened but handsome face.
 I approached and knelt before the Royal Guard. “Hail, my liege.”
The King held out his hand and spoke in his familiar tone. “Rise, my Orator. No need for your formalities here. Tell me your tale.”
I stood and, with a small smile, began my tale. “Of course, sire. For generations, the noble families of Turlington and Segreto fought, culminating in the Fourteen Years of Peril. Now, with your wisdom, that is no longer the case. With the wedding you arranged between Reginald and Camilla, the families are now one. They no longer fight. All disagreements are in the past. These families now work for the betterment of the kingdom, even combining to build the Segreto Orphanage and Turlington Hospital.”
A golden light twinkled in the King’s beautiful blue eyes. “That is good, very good. And the happy couple? What of them?”
“As you saw at the wedding, sire, there was immediate apprehension between the couple. Although, they did do as you wished and were wed. They worked together and built their relationship on the foundation of trust, communication, and love. For Reginald, having the support of Camilla has allowed him even more time at work, where he has risen quickly through the Trader’s Guild to become a high ranking member. He shows those he works with the meaning of precise communication and patience. Now, with Camilla, she has taken to helping those less fortunate. They own a home overlooking the ocean. She allows and encourage street urchins to use their lands for fishing. Her spare time is spent in soup kitchens, where she volunteers her prodigious culinary talent to help those less fortunate. Together, they till their garden. Wildflowers from around the world grow in their fertile soil, visited by a constant kaleidoscope of butterflies. They are even trying to start a family and, if you do not mind me saying, sir, are having a great time doing so. Their love is an example for us all. You should be proud of what you have helped bring into this world.” I smiled and bowed to the King. This would surely melt his heart.
His gaze softened and he looked away. “Very good.” He gestured for me to follow and walked to the window.
A light breeze from the open window buffeted my hair all about. The white marble streets of the Royal District reflected in his eyes. He edged towards me, close enough to where our fingers brushed, and spoke under his breath. “Since my husband’s passing, it has felt as though all the love has gone from the world.” He wiped a tear from his cheek. “I looked forward to the warmth of his love as we aged, but his time came. It gladdens me that his legacy lives on through the young.”
The hair on the back of my neck bristled. It felt as though he was leading me on a path to confessing his love for me, standing me at the window for all to see. “Yes, sire.”
He rubbed the tip of his fingers together. “I wish to meet them, to give his blessing for a long and loving life together.”
My head spun and my throat dried as his words crumbled the world around me. “My King?” The window called for me to leap from its precipice.
He placed a hand on my shoulders, which I pressed into. “Their first anniversary is in a week. I will go to them then.”
I bowed to block the fear in my eyes. The Chancellor smirked as I scurried from the throne room.

“Our King would like to give you a blessing to mark the occasion,” I said, as excitedly as I could. Cold air wafted in from the broken window behind me.
Camilla bowed her head. “It would be an honor, although it is not necessary.” Flour peppered her freckled cheeks and she bore a demure smile.
I shifted in my rickety seat and acted as the Chancellor would. Stately, aloof, douchey. “Your home… it is quite humble,” I said. “It is not fit for his Highness. I have reserved a home by the ocean for this ceremony, and,” I glanced pointedly at their ratty clothes, “we will have to procure you some proper attire. My tailors await your arrival.”
They met each other’s eyes and frowned. “We will have to decline,” said Reginald. The crooked smile dropped off his face and his thin fingers bore a tarnished signet ring which spun about as he tapped his knee.
“Good, then I’ll get started on—” I stammered as I processed their response. “Wait, what? You hail from noble families,” I said. “It is only right for the ceremony to match your prestigious families.”
A vein twitched in his cheek, and he firmly said, “We are not interested.”
“I must insist. The King—"
He rose to his feet, fists balled. “And we must decline.”
Camilla put a hand on shoulder his and squeezed. “It’s okay, Reggie.” He lowered himself back into the seat and took her hand with a light squeeze. She said, “We have no interest in your offer, sir. I think it best if you leave.”
“Then consider it a gift,” I said, feigning calm. My hands shook with anxiety that the King would learn I had lies. “It would be rude to refuse the King.”
He stood and picked up the glasses from the table. They rattled in his hands as he stomped across the unfinished floors to the kitchen. “He will bless our lives here, as they are, or not at all.”
Dishes clanked together from the kitchen. I leaned closer to her, placing my hand on her wrist. “We can do so much for you. Won’t you consider it? It would be so good for him to get out of this place. Luxury never hurt anybody.”
“Is that all you have come here for?” she said, lips pursed.
The color drained from my cheeks. “It is.”
“Then I am sorry to have wasted your time.” She stood and wrapped a warm loaf of bread in a white cloth before holding open the door. “Please take this as you go.”
A cold gust of wind welcomed me outside. I stepped into the shadow of the castle and pulled the bread to my chest to keep me warm. Once the front door shut, I hurried over to the front window, where Reginald washed dishes, and knocked on the glass.
He slid the stiff window open. “What?”
“Do it for her. Show her how much you love her.”
“Goodbye.” He scowled, shut the window, and pulled the blind.
I sighed and trudged through mud and ice back to my carriage. The breeze stretched and warped the hovel as it rolled through, as if the walls and roof barely clung together.

Multiple trips to their home resulted in a series of denials. However, something as frivolous as the couple quite rudely saying no will get in the way of my heart. The blessing would be given at sunrise tomorrow. Without any other options, my night passed with feverish work. I arrived at the couple’s home well before dawn.
The distinct fanfare of the approaching royal convoy echoed down the street. “Dance, now, go dance,” I said, waving my hands at the small herd of dirty children I had paid to dress as satyrs and scatter flower petals. Most played their lutes out of tune, one tried to recite a poem but could not remember the words, and a final child sat and cried.
I lit a mound of coals along the path from the street to their front door, which I then smothered in salted sand and doused in water to mimic ocean brine. Lastly, I snuck through a hole in the fence to the backyard, slid a goldfish aquarium into the broken window, and hid in the backyard. When the trumpets announced the King’s arrival, I pulled out a box and flamboyantly flipped it open. To my dismay, the butterflies inside had all died in the cold and remained piled at the bottom of the container.
The front door creaked open. “What fresh hell is this?” said Reginald.
“Don’t ask me, just act like this is normal I guess,” Camilla muttered. “The King’s already here, we have to play along for now.”
“Hello,” said the King. “Thank you for allowing me to your lovely home. You have, erm, interesting decor.”
“My liege,” said Reginald.
“It is an honor, sire,” she said. “Would you like to come inside?”
“Please, thank you,” said the King. The sound of heavy footsteps on the weak floorboards filled the room.
I stretched out my painted sunrise tapestry over the back window. Separately, I had painted the ocean waves so I could move them independently. To replicate crashing waves, I poured a bucket of water over rocks.
“Sire, would you like something to drink?” Camilla asked.
“No, thank you. I do not wish to take too much of your time. I am happy to hear that you are doing well. I only wish to impart my departed husband’s blessing and be on my way. Please kneel.”
I peeked through the screen and saw the couple kneeling on the floor of their hovel, the King with his eyes closed and hands on their foreheads. The Chancellor stood, arms crossed, and barely contained his mirth as he noticed me. I put a finger to my lips and watched the King, hopeful to see any sign that my ruse had worked.
“In honor of King Consort Harvey, I wish you, Reginald and Camilla Turlington, all the blessings of the kingdom. May your lives be rich and full. May your generosity be returned tenfold. May your love last beyond your lifetimes.” He took off his hands from their forehead, and I disappeared back behind the screen and returned to creating waves.
“Thank you,” said Reginald.
“Again, we are honored,” said Camilla.
The King said, “No, the honor is mine. Thank you for allowing me in your home and sharing your time with me.”
“Of course, sire. You are welcome anytime, and you may stay as long as you like.”
“Again, you have my thanks.” The King cleared his throat. “If I may speak freely, I do not know you as my subject. Only the reputation of your families and what my Orator has told me. From what he said, your home is not what I expected. Did he think you lived by the ocean?”
In a panic I froze, then redoubled my efforts. I poured the water onto the rocks and roiled the painted waves as fast as I could to hopefully convince him that this home indeed overlooked the ocean.
“No, my liege, I have no idea what all of this is,” said Reginald. “It was not here last night.”
“Sire, if I may,” said the Chancellor. “It seems this was all set up by the Orator, although I could not fathom as to why. He is outside the window as we speak.”
My arms strained as I crashed waves onto rock as my dreamed upon future depended on it. A royal guard entered the backyard and dragged me away.
I clawed to remain at my chosen post. “Unhand me! You can’t move the ocean, I am the sea!”
 The Chancellor beamed as I was thrown into a kneeling position before the others. My heart shattered and chest sagged as I wished to recede into the floor.
“So, it is you,” said the King, his arms crossed and lips pursed. “I cannot express how disappointed I am with your lies.”
“Highness,” said Camilla, “he came to us a week ago, asking to provide a home and clothing for this blessing.”
“Is that so?” said the King, eyebrow cocked. “Why did you not accept?”
“My liege, I am sure you are aware of our families,” said Reginald. “Once you married us, we were cut off from our families. They hated each other and couldn’t stand the love which grew between us. We built this life ourselves, and our proud of that. Your Commentator offered to provide us the clothes, home, even money to show you our love for each other.” He took his wife’s hand and smiled. “I want for nothing, as I have her love. Camilla is kind and gentle, she is such a caring host, she balances my temper.”
“And I love his smile, how he takes care of chores without being asked, his strong will.” She squeezed him close to her.
The King turned back to me. His voice cracked as he spoke. “Why have you not told the truth, my friend?”
“Sire—” I stammered, my throat caught in my chest. His torment, it pained me so.
The King helped me to my feet and brushed dirt from my front. “Why lie when the truth is so lovely?” He pulled me tight to his chest. “My Harvey, he would have adored to see his memory live on in this way.”
I hugged him back, laying my head on his shoulder. Sinking into his embrace felt better than I had ever fantasized.
“Don’t you dare lie to me again,” the King muttered in my ear.
“Of course, sire.” I smiled. Our beards bristled up against each other. “I have told you many stories. There is one, heartfelt and true, I would like for us to write together.” A hard lump in my throat ached as I awaited his response.
He released me and tilted his head as we met each other’s gaze. We both blushed, and he slipped his fingers in between mine.