2 | The Wicked Queen

1195 Words
The throne room was quiet. Royal guards lined the aisle, waiting for anything that might happen. Queen Ariadne sat on her throne. Two guards on each side of her and her servants stood at the foot of the dais. The double doors opened and a man walked inside. The elegant and shiny interior of the throne room did not match what he was wearing. His dull shirt and his worn-out hat tell everyone he belongs to the lower class, or whatever they called it. He walked down the aisle, feeling small against the huge royal guards that lined his way. He was feeling nervous for this day and he wore the best clothes he had. But it was out of place among the posh marble floors and the ceiling. But he heeded no mind. He came to the castle not to marvel at its grandeur but to pay for what he owed. The Kingdom has this monthly Tax and all citizens are required to pay for what they owe. For him, he has to pay using the fruits of his harvest. It wasn't much but it is enough. He bent his knee and bowed his head. His eyes remained on the floor as it is considered to meet the Queen's eyes. So he bowed as low as he can that his forehead almost touched the marbled floors. "Your Majesty," he greeted. He modulated his voice not to sound too loud but enough for the Queen to hear. "What do you have for me?" the Queen rested her chin on the back of her hands. Although he could not see her face, her tone was enough for him to know that Queen isn't amused at all. An old woman came out crying from the throne room before him. He doesn't need to know what happened inside as to why the old woman was crying. And if he isn't careful, he might end up like that woman. Or worse. But he has prepared himself and all he could do is hope that the Queen would like what he has for her. "I had a bountiful harvest, your Majesty," he said and the doors behind him opened. The royal guards brought in sacks of rice, corn, and fruits from his farm. There were peaches, apples, lemons, and many more. He did not have a bountiful harvest. He left a sack of rice and corn and some fruits in their house enough for them to consume. And he brought the rest to the castle. It didn't matter to him. As long as he could be in Her Majesty's good graces, he's fine. With the amount he brought, he might be given two months break from paying the Tax. The Queen was silent in front of him and he could feel her stare towards the goods he bought. It should be enough, he thought. it should be enough to cover months' worth of Tax. "That's good enough for one month. You may go." He couldn't believe what he just heard. he was tempted to look at her and to ask why but he remained his head bowed to the floor. "Your Majesty, I don't understand, I bought almost all of my harvest--" "What is it that you don't understand?" Her voice was cold. And he swallowed hard, gathering the courage he needed. He knew she wouldn’t listen. He already knew it but she’s taking his chance. For his family. "My family was left with nothing but a sack of each. I brought most of it straight to your castle. Surely, that huge amount is not just for a month--" He did not finish what he was saying when sturdy hands grabbed him and forced him to stand. The Royal Guards. They're quick to pick him up from groveling to the ground. But he stood firm on his spot and refused to go. "Your Majesty, please!" he pleaded yet his eyes remained on the foot of the dais and all he could see was the hem of the Queen's dress. "I have nothing to give you the next month. I have a family to feed. I have a sick wife and I have to give her the medication she needs. Please give me three months before I could give to this castle once again," he said. He didn't notice he was already crying. And he was hoping the Queen would change her mind but what she said next left him frozen. "I hate repeating myself," the Queen said. And it was probably desperation that drove him to free himself from the guards and ran towards the foot of the dais and he did not notice he was already climbing it. He was mad. He's mad about everything. He wanted to do something. He's been suffering all his life. He wanted to end it. So he walked, pushing the servants who tried to stop him. And then he looked up. The moment he met the Queen's eyes, he stood frozen. It was probably the most beautiful pair of eyes he has ever seen. The colors were extraordinary. Everything about the Queen shouts staggering beauty. He couldn't help but think that perhaps it was considered a crime to meet the Queen's eyes because it is illegal, to begin with. Perhaps it was because her eyes were too beautiful that not anyone deserved to stare at them. "My Queen," he rasped and he looked down, only to see two swords pierced through his chest. Breathing suddenly became painful and everything started to blur. He heard the sound of the knife fall down the marble floors. He didn't notice he was holding a knife. Did he try to kill the Queen? Did it cross his mind? The Royal Guards beside the Queen pulled their swords out and he gasped. His blood splattered on the ground and he found himself kneeling in front of the Queen. He looked at the Queen and her eyes remained cold and unmoving. Then everything blurred and the last thing he saw was the Queen's beautiful eyes staring coldly at him before everything went black. The throne room was silent. Nobody dared to say anything. Perhaps they were used to seeing it. Perhaps it was just another normal day for them. Nobody even looked at the man on the floor. Blood started pooling under the man's body and it irked the Queen. She is not in the mood to see something so disgusting. With a flick of her hand, the guards started to move and took the body. She doesn't know if the man was dead or not. Ariadne just want it out of her sight. "Get him out of here," she said and it was when two Royal Guards from the aisle walked to the dais and took the body. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The rich smell of roses from the gigantic vases filled her nose. And when she opened her eyes, the body was gone, and she sat on her throne, waiting for the next payer. As if no one almost died in front of her earlier. * * *
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