Rating: G
Warning: I guess I should tell you
Notes: Absolute and total drivel!
In a kingdom by the sea, many years ago, ruled a king who was very lonely. This king was as renowned for his prowess as a warrior as for his strange fits of melancholy.
His knights were fiercely loyal to his leadership, and with the strange powers at his command, they were truly satisfied that their country's future was held in secure hands.
But the king was unhappy. Battles against evil warlords and tyrants and outlaw bands had palled. Life, Ah! He had no wish to marry and sire children. His few lovers all had fled from him in disgust at his taciturn silences. He had not been touched by a lover in a decade and his heart ached in the lonelines and solitudes of his tower.
When was the last time I've been joyful? My people grow restless for a king that goes among them, as I did when I had first usuped the throne. They had blessed me then, as I had walked among them, working in the fields, gathering sheeves and shaking fruit into baskets for harvest.
I had gathered laughing children up on my shoulders, crowds called my name "King James! King James! Give us your blessing!" Women boldly flocked around me and would fleetingly dart their fingers at my leathers and gauntlets. Warriors and farmers and shepherds raised mugs in my honor and chanted "King James live forever! We'll follow where'er you lead us!"
Now...he had not been outside the palace walls for many moons. He could...not. The sun blinded him so that he could not see e'en his hand before his darkened eyes.
He could hear each curse and thump the cook bestowed on the potato boy and the chicken plucker and the sweeping maid. He heard the pigs grunting and the milkmaids sneezing, and the shat that splatted from the cows' hinds as their udders were drawn.
He had abandoned the coarseness and itch of his leathers and silk. Even nudity was a curse. The wind whistling through the stone cracks of his tower chilled him e'en in the dryness of the summer day. His feet burned as he stood upon the cold fiery stones. Walking was so painful. He had taken to relieving himself in a bucket by his side.
The stench of piss and food and horse shit from the palace stables, the chicken excrement and the waste in the moat and the barrack latrines and even the slightly burned odor of the gruel the kitchen sent up daily bombarded him. There was no relief.
He could taste nothing. Not the salt in his sweat, nor the sweet flavor of his own blood coursing from the lacerations in his thighs where he'd raked his fingers, scratching them, trying to find a reprieve in the burning dryness. He could not even taste the tang of his own tears, which burned his eyes and face like pokers from the torturers' devices.
Shall I call for my brother and abdicate my throne? He is a great warrior, my second in battle, but Prince Stephen is easily swayed, he divides his time among the harlots and courtesans, and lusts after gold for his treasure room. He would bankrupt the people and send husbands and fathers into a needless war to satisfy for his lust for coin.
No, Stephen...Stephen is too much like our Mother...She could not be faithful to her husband or her people. A traitor giving her body to that wolfshead Kinkade, spreading her legs for him in his forest midden, like any whore calling herself a camp follower. His mother, beautiful and fair and eyes so blue they rivalled the storm sky. The Queen of this land now a painted whore for a murdering dog.
There was a scratching at the thick door, and a low whisper, "Majesty...Majesty."
He opened his mouth to speak but could not. He was not able to swallow his own saliva. He began to choke and fell upon his knees, coughing, trying to draw breath into his lungs, when he smelled...
There was a fragrance...a slight tinge of herbs...the smell so faint his nose was not overpowered with the foulness of discerning the myriad stink of it. Then a softness, a light touch upon his shoulder, as a hand caressed him, and he felt no terror of being afflicted with another's touch. A low and gentle whisper, a lover's satisfied sigh spoke, "My Lord, have no fear of me. I am here to guide you."
King James rocked back on his heels, still with the man's small hand upon his arm, sliding slowly to his shoulder and neck, caressingly around the barrel of his chest.
He was able to See! The harsh sunlight that creeped through the high windows no longer blinded him. I can see him. I--wait--I no longer hear the clanging of the kitchen workers nor the drumming buzzing in the honeybee hives, and I smell...just his essence, the gentle spiciness of the olive oil in his hair dressing.
He was beautiful. Beauty. Not a worthy description. He was Light in the Darkness. He was Fragrance in the Stench. He was Gentleness in the Pain. He was a Whisper in the Confusion. An Angel.
"My Lord, I am here to serve you. My heart has been broken with your cries. I saw through the veils and called for the winged ones to bear me here to your side."
"Do...do...do not leave m...me," rasped James.
"No, my King, never. This is my destiny. I will die by your side."
"Not...not die, sor...sorceror. Live. I no longer am crushed by the pressure of my blood which pounded..."
"No, no longer will you feel such pain. Never. As long as I am by your side, I promise. Look--"
King James stood upon his feet and brought the Light of His World to stand in front of him. He carded his fingers through the delightful curls, and never felt so much joy and softness in his life.
He has Healed me.
The young man placed his palm in his big hand. James covered it with his own, the warmth seeping into his cold muscles, and felt...
He took the sweet hand in his and kissed it. The man only had four fingers, the small one was...gone.
The young man dared to kiss his King. When James' eyes demanded answers, the sorceror said, "It is a custom of my people. When a man binds himself eternally to another, he sacrifices flesh and blood to the Spirits. If his sacrifice has found favor, the desires of his heart will be satisfied."
The King kissed him upon his lips, tenderly, "What is your name, Light of My World, that I may know it, when I caress you in passion?"
"Blair, My King."
"Blair," he breathed, his lips upon his Light's. "Blair. I shall satisfy all your desires. You will never lack."
"I yearn for your touch, Majesty."
The King smiled down at him and chuckled. "This is the privilege I give to thee, and thee alone, my betrothed Beauty: 'James' shall it be in your address-- whether in the throne room, on the battlefield, or in our marriage bower."
"James."
"Call for my chamberlain. I must prepare myself. My king...Our kingdom will see my return, and they shall shower you with affection when I introduce my people to my Consort."
"My l...Lord King!"
"I have spoken. Blair. Blair. With Eyes of Stars and..."
"James, I love thee. I loved thee 'ere I breached the veils and sought thee in thy lonely tower."
**********
"Wake up, Chief, you're having a nightmare!" ...nudge...nudge..jerk..tug..push..pull..
"...love thee..."
Jim kissed him sweetly, and aroused Blair from his dream. "I love thee, too," he whispered against Blair's cheek.