One rainy day and I go back to writing. It seems I can't without it.

Silence. All he really wants is silence.

Unfortunately, silence is not an option. "You were born screaming and you will live your life with those sounds drumming inside of your ears," his father used to say in his rare moments of sanity and soberness when he wasn't surrounded by wine and music and whores.

A king is not entitled to silence because a king is saved from loneliness. Or buried in its salvation.

He was hungry for silence since early childhood, and he would have given up all of the gold entitled to his name for a minute of it. Maybe even a second would have been enough.

But instead of silence he got a crown and a title and more gold than he could have ever imagined. He got peoples respect, not just because of his name, but because of his generosity and gentle smile, but mostly because he was a completely different man than his father was, which initially made him a better king. He had put his fathers name in shadow, people said, and everyone after him will live in his shadow, trying to rise above but failing greatly.

"My Lord," Alaric says gently, with best intentions at his heart, "You have to choose a wife. It's time. People love you, but they won't love a king forever if he lives in vice, not even a kind one."

Stefan's forehead creases and he throws his palm over the length of his face to hide his annoyance. They've been through this topic many times in the past few months and it gotten them nowhere. Stefan is stubborn and the members of the imperial council are persistent. They mean well but that doesn't mean their actions are righteous.

"Vice?" Damon laughs hoarsely, "My brother barely looks at women, let alone touch them."

This is probably the first time that Damon said anything topic wise during a court meeting. A grin appears on Stefan's face as his brother makes that comment, but he hides it under his palm. He thinks about how Damon should be sitting in his place right now. He is their parents eldest son, the rightful heir, but he was never a king material, even less than his father was. Everyone knew it and he knew it so he respectfully declined the throne. People were relieved when he did it, because he loves women and wine as much as their father did, but Damon is something their father wasn't - greedy and lazy. As much as he was bad at it, their father enjoyed being a king. Damon loves the perks of being royalty, but he hates the responsibility. The kingdom would crumble under his hand. Stefan is kind and generous and respectful, he is a ten times bigger man than his father was. Being a good man and being a good king are two completely different things even though Stefan doesn't lack at the other department either. Even though he just turned 18 he's hardworking and responsible and smart. Was he happy when he found out he's going to be a king? Not at all, he wanted to be a knight. Did he accept the responsibility without complaining? Yes, mostly because of his mother. Because this was her kingdom, her legacy, but a queen can't rule the kingdom, the king can, so everything her father built fell into his fathers hands and he had almost ruined it.

"You're a true king, Stefan," his mother used to say when he was a child, "Not because you carry your fathers name, but because you're my son."

And she died by his fathers side like she was equal to him, when in reality she was so above him that in comparison to her he looked like a bean planted deep in the infertile ground.

"All you have to do is pick out one of the lovely ladies from the royal rows, marry her, make her sit next to you quietly and make her give you children," one of the members of the imperial council said casually, "You don't even have to like her. You can enjoy other women."

Make her sit next to you quietly. If silence was guaranteed to him by marriage he would marry the first girl in his sight.

The members start bickering loudly, clearly their opinions parting on this topic. Stefan removes the palm from his face and looks at the room full of grown men fighting over how he should lead his life. Damon looks as amused as always, slowly sipping wine.

How did his mother used to say? "True kings words can be heard in silence as well as in the loud murmur of the crowd."

He decides to go around that, just this once.

"Enough!" he slams his fist against a wooden table and even Damon jumps a little in his chair after his brothers action. He may be kind, but he's nowhere near patient, or fickle. He's not going to let a bunch of men braid his future like they own it.

If there's one thing he likes about being a king, it's freedom.

"I'm not going to marry just anyone," he says calmly to the ten pair of eyes watching him wakefully, "When I marry, I'm going to do it out of love, not out of need. And when I do, I'm not going to insult my wife, or myself, by sleeping around in the bed of other women."

Stefan was a man of principles and they knew it. Sometimes they wished he wasn't.

This time, Alaric gives himself the right to defile his king. "That's not how king is supposed to behave."

Damon's eyes rest on Stefan's calm face which twitches under Alaric's words. Alaric was their fathers friend, his loyal companion who thought their fathers word is a law even when it was against the law.

Stefan chuckles lightly while slowly standing up. "And how is a king supposed to behave? Am I to spend all of the kingdoms treasury on pleasure? Am I to enter my wife's chambers only when there's no one else to keep my bed warm? Am I to be stranger to my children, or to become blind to my peoples hunger?" he keeps raising his voice after every sentence spoken while circling around the table in the middle of the room, "Am I supposed to behave like my father?"

Alaric allows himself to raise his voice as well, knowing Stefan won't do much about it. "You wouldn't be here if it weren't for your father. Your father was a king," he says with a great deal of respect.

"He was no king!" Stefan replies angrily, "He was a lowlife who spent his life seeding his bastards around the kingdom who most likely died from hunger."

"He lived the law," Alaric replies calmly knowing Stefan doesn't have much love for their law, but respect it nevertheless.

Stefan chuckles. "If something were to happen to me, one of his bastards would be next in line for the throne. What does your law think about that?"

Silence envelops the room and for a second Stefan gets his wish, and curses himself for breaking it. "King is nothing without his queen. If it weren't for my mother there wouldn't be a kingdom anymore, and you know it."

No one says a word. Blissful silence swallows the room, and Stefan revels in it, knowing it won't last long. The only sound are his steps on the cold concrete which soon get mixed with running steps from the hallway outside of the room. Someone knocks on the door, and Stefan sighs in disappointment.

"Enter," he says loud enough for the person on the other side of the door to hear.

One of the soldiers comes into the room, his spear protruding from his fist, and he bows before the king.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but your presence is required, my lord," he speaks with his head still bowed, his eyes locked on the floor.

Even though there are apparently some more urgent things to be handled, which will probably cause a lot of wreck and take away the memory of silence, he feels relieved to escape the room.

"Very well," he responds after turning his attention to ten men sitting still by the square table, "This meeting is adjourned."

He urges the soldier to exit the room, and as he does Stefan follows his step. As they move down the hall he can hear someones footsteps behind them.

"Bashing father in Alaric's face," he hears his brothers voice behind his shoulder, "Naughty, naughty king," he can basically hear Damon's smirk.

"His blind devotion is tiresome," Stefan brushes his brothers comment off, "Is he ever going to get tired of defending a corpse?" he asks, even though he doesn't expect an answer to that question.

His intentions don't stop Damon, though. "It's not the corpse he's defending, it's the time when his life held importance."

Stefan looks at his brother, who is now no longer behind him, but standing next to him, shoulder to shoulder, with a curiosity in his eyes.

"Not so long ago he was kings right hand," Damon explains, "Now not even his opinion is valued."

Stefan ponders on it a little. "I don't need someone to be my right hand when both of mine are functioning."

Damon smirks at his brothers words. "And if you did, everyone know it would be me."

Stefan laughs out loudly at that. "You're as useful as a little finger, Damon," he shakes his head.

"One of these days you're going to hurt my feelings."

"As if you have any."

"Nothing to worry about Damon, you know none of the other members agree with Alaric, they all hated our father as much as we have. Maybe even more, since after all, they knew him better."

"I know," Damon nods, convinced in his brothers words, "I only question how much can you push Alaric before he breaks."

Stefan looks at him, but Damon keeps looking straight ahead.

Both of them follow the soldier through the barely lit hallways. When they reach the door leading to the back yard, the soldier pushes them open and Stefan notices bunch of his men with torches and spears in their hands standing in a circle, quietly, their eyes locked on something on the ground. He steps on the ground still damp from yesterdays rain and when men notice the king and his brother approaching them, they step aside, allowing them a clear view of what they have been staring at.

Stefan enters the circle and Damon follows him, mostly to satisfy his own curiosity. All the men bow down, but Stefan mimics with his hand for them to stand straight up, so they do. They keep their eyes in level with Stefan when he asks, "What seems to be the problem?"

Damon nudges Stefan on the shoulder when one of the soldiers speaks up. "Her," the chain in his hands rattles and Stefan realizes the soldier in front of him had spoken. He follows the thick, rusty chain from the soldiers hand to the ground, where it's clasped around a girls neck.

Yard is surrounded by high walls with guards on the top of them, and the sky is dark. Very dark, as well as their surrounding. Cold wind is blowing, leftover from the storm which lasted for few days and ended yesterday. In all that darkness, even though there are few torches lit by soldiers, he almost hasn't seen the girl. Her hair is dark and damp. He wonders is it usually the color of a coal, or is it of this color because it's stained with mud and water. He finds it strange to be asking himself that question but he leaves it be. The color of this intruders hair is the least of his worries. Even though her head is lowered, probably due to the heaviness of the chain, he can see her face is stained with mud as well. She's dressed in rags, which are muddy and torn so he can see some of her skin which looks as muddy as the clothes itself. She looks like one of the beggars, which Stefan is trying to clear the kingdom from. Give them a chance for a decent life, fresh start. Maybe it's a foolish thing to do, maybe their existence has a purpose, maybe they keep the balance.

"She ran into the gates," the soldier speaks again, "Yelling something about killing the king," he pulls the chain in his hand and the girl chokes a little. When he looses the chain, she clasps for air.

Stefan stands still in front of his men, in front of the girl and his brother, trying to find the right words to say. His father used to receive dead threats which he disregarded. Which had cost him his life, as well as the life of his wife and their mother. People despised the king, it was only a matter of time until someone did anything about it. But Stefan, Stefan was loved. People in the kingdom loved him more than the men on the court. King is supposed to love his family more than his people and Stefan did the opposite.

"What's your name?" Stefan asks the girl.

Slowly, the girl raises her head, probably struggling under the weight of the chain wrapped around her neck. Her face is not only stained with mud, but with blood as well. It's splattered over he cheeks and Stefan wonders is it her own. Her lip is cracked and a small stream of blood is pouring down it. Her eyes meet his and they are darker than the night itself. They radiate innocence, as well as fear and pain.

Until a smirk curves on her lips, and he thinks how it looks like she stole it from his brother and plastered it on her own face.

"Fuck you," she spits at him.

Damon chuckles. A peasant girl disobeying the king, he likes her already.

The soldier tightens the chain around her neck and she starts choking again. He pulls her up on her feet which is when Stefan notices her hands are tied behind her back with chains as well. It seems uncomfortable, and highly unneeded for a young girl to be restrained in a way they restrain wild dogs and grown men.

"Such a filthy mouth," the soldiers barks at her, releasing the chain once she's on her feet, allowing her lungs to get filled with air. To teach her a lesson he brings his hand in the air, ready to slap her across her face.

As his hand starts falling on her face, Stefan stops it in the mid air, but notices that the girl hasn't even flinched. She was about to be hit by a man twice her size and she hasn't even flinched.

The soldier looks at him surprised as Stefan's fingers wrap around the mans wrist. "If I see you hitting a woman one more time, I'll cut your fists off myself."

Confusion washes over the girls face, but it gets lost in a moment.

Stefan lets go of the soldiers wrist, and the soldier nods in understanding. He releases the chain in his hand, and now when nothing is holding her, the girl falls back on her knees. The chain wrapped all over her body brings her down on the ground, staining her with more mud. She's too weak to stand, Stefan concludes, when he notices her collar bones sticking out of her body more than they stick out on the other ladies.

Lady. Some people would frown upon him of thinking of this intruder as a lady.

He crouches before her, and some of the soldiers gasp. The king never crouches in front of anyone. The girl looks up, locking her eyes on his, and her look is deviant.

"What's your name?" Stefan repeats his question one more time.

"What do you need my name for?" she asks slyly, "You're going to kill me, anyway. Do you really need to know who you're killing?"

Her words confuse him but he doesn't let her see it. He studies her for a moment, the conflicted look in her eyes, her bony body, her stained skin, still trying to figure out is the blood on her face her own.

"I want to see the king," she says determinedly, and for that he admires her, because she's making requests when she's in no place to make requests.

"What for?" he asks curious. Apparently, she doesn't know what the king looks like, if she did, she would have recognized him. Unless she's not asking for him. Unless she's asking for another king.

A sly smirk reappears on her face. "I hear he likes 'em young and fresh," she licks her bloody lips and once her tongue falls on the cut, she winces.

Damon barks in laughter, "I worry you have been misinformed, sweetheart," he comments, but he never gets her attention. Her eye never leave Stefan's.

He's playing me, she thinks to herself, kindness if the most powerful weapon and it cuts deep.

"The king is crouching in front of you," Damon comments against his brothers wish.

The girl allows Stefan to catch her confusion this time. "You can't be the king."

"I'm sorry to disappoint."

"You're a child."

Stefan chuckles. "So are you."

"But I'm not running the kingdom."

"You seem to be on a mission," Stefan knits his thick brows together, "Which is similar."

She studies him. The gentleness of his eyes, the slight curve of his lips, small dimples on the corners of his lips, where they meet his cheeks, his soft skin. "I never knew a king could be such a wimp."

The soldier growls but Stefan hushes him by raising his look to him. When the man silences himself he looks back to the girl. He stands up.

"Up," he orders.

The soldier reaches for the chains but Stefan stops him.

"She will do it on her own," he says, making her raise her look to him.

She keeps looking at him for few seconds, then raises one of her legs and buries her foot in the ground. She bounces of the ground and does the same with her second leg. The bones rattle in her knees, and they give her up, pulling her back to the ground.

But she never reaches the ground. Stefan puts his hands around her shoulders and props her back up on her feet, giving her time to adjust to standing on her own. Her eyes never leave his.

Damon gasps. "Why can't Alaric be here for moments like this?" he whines. "It's one thing to feed the poor, but to hold them? You're a disappointment to your lineage, Stefan, and you will never be a good king!" Damon mimics Alaric's voice, but something clenches in Stefan's throat upon hearing those words.

When he's convinced the girl is stable enough to stand on her own he lets go of her shoulders.

"What should we do with her, my lord?" the soldier picks up the chains gently.

Stefan stays silent for a while, holding the girls gaze.

"Should we get rid of her?" the other one asks, the edge of his spear shining under the moonlight.

She doesn't react to his words. He proposes death and she stands perfectly still. Why is that? Why doesn't she beg for her life?

"No," Stefan shakes his head determined, "Take her to the dungeon," he orders his men.

They nod in understanding and take the girl away.

AN: Hello again, and welcome to my new story! :) Is the title confusing you? Good. Don't google for the meaning, it will make much more sense if you wait for me to reveal it ;) What do you think of it so far? Are you interested? Should I keep writing it? Please, tell me your opinions, much appreciated :)