Long Live The King
I'm just a goddam number.
She was beautiful. All my father's wives were, but she was something special. Mercedes was younger than most of the others, but she was head wife, the one that sat on the golden throne beside the man I barely knew. Her skin was dark, and free of flaw. Her eyes, dark and pensive, were often filled with sadness I only just begun to comprehend. I'd always thought being queen was an honor, and I suppose in some places it was, but Mercedes hadn't had a choice in the matter.
I was fourteen years old when she married my father. My kingdom had been at war with hers, and her father, in hopes of making peace, offered her hand in marriage. Father was particularly taken with her, and only days after my mother died of illness, Mercedes took her place.
Despite being head-wife, Mercedes never bore children, much to the other wives' frustration. No one could understand why my father kept her, and the thought of letting her go made father furious. Once, Janet, wife number twenty, had suggested they be rid of the dark princess or at least give her spot to someone more deserving. Father sent her in the pit for a week, and only let her out on the condition that she respect Mercedes. If I had been king, she would have been in the pit for a lot longer.
I thought I could see why Father loved Mercedes. She didn't smile often, but when she did it was a God-given gift. And her voice… Despite not being a biological mother herself, she would come to us, singing tunes from her own home. I remember the first time I heard her sing. I swore my heart stopped. She was comforting and kind. I never told anyone that I loved her, just like father did. Not that it mattered. My father had fifty three children, of them, thirty-five sons. Me, being the thirty second son with scabby knees and oversized lips, wasn't anything special. My love went unnoticed by all.
Years passed and I hoped my feelings for the queen had changed, but they didn't. The older we got, the less time she spent in our quarters until she stopped coming altogether. I was twenty the last time she came. She spent most of her time in her room, or in her private gardens. I stood by the gates, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Though I rarely did.
.
Oedipus
[First and Final act.]
.
To see me made her awful and to touch me made her awful.
.
Nights were the busiest times for Santana. Men would leave their wives for the women of the brothel. They preferred experience, rather than the touch of a woman who loved them. It sickened her to a point, but she wasn't one to complain. No, Santana would sell her girls for a night to anyone who was willing to pay generously and she would do so with a smile. This was how she payed for her silks and fine foods. This was how she lived. How she had always lived. But never had a man made the mistake of trying to force her into bed. Until tonight. He was old, older than her father. His breath smelled of whiskey and what she assumed were eggs. He was dirty. It wasn't until she grabbed the small dagger she kept hidden under her dress and threatened him, that he let her go and stumbled out of the bar.
He'd never come back. She wouldn't allow it. It wasn't scary as much as it was insulting. Santana Lopez had a reputation to uphold, and no second-rate drunk was going to ruin the name she had made for herself. The next time he came close, there would be no threat, only the shock of a blade piercing through his skin. After sending her customers home and her employees to their rooms in a fit of rage, Santana stood in the doorway, looking out at the empty street and lost in thought.
"Are you okay?" asked a soft voice from behind her.
Santana softened and turned. There, stood a tall, slim woman with hair the color of gold. "I'm fine, Brittany." She kissed the woman's lips lightly. "You should go to sleep. You've early classes in the morning."
"Just be safe." said Brittany glancing outside. "I love you."
"I love you too." smiled Santana, and she watched the woman of her dreams walk back to their room. For the next hour, Santana was on her knees, scrubbing the floors and even the walls. She did so, until she saw a man standing in the doorway, smiling at her. It took her a few seconds before realizing who it was, but once she did, she was up and into his arms in a flash.
"What are you doing here?" asked Santana pulling back.
"A little birdie told me this is where I could find you." Sam smiled and glanced around the empty bar. "How have you been?"
"I've been busy. This is my place." at his raised brows, she rolled her eyes. "A woman has to make a living. It's not like I've ever sold myself."
"But you sell other people."
Santana considered him. "Well, they have a choice. I don't force them to work for me. The truth is, any woman twisted enough to be in this line of work would be lucky to work for me." she smiled proudly. "I've the best women, the richest clients…"
He nodded. It wasn't his place to judge after all. "What about Brittany?"
"She's doing well. I was scared to lose her. Just a few months ago, she was ill. All is well now." Santana smiled. "Tell me about your journeys."
"There's not much to say," he forced a smile. "I've been around. Done things I'm not proud of. Now I'm back."
"For her no doubt." said Santana. She knew there was a lot more to his story, but ignored it for now. "You're in luck. They aren't the happy couple." She went to the bar and prepared two shots of whiskey. Sam grabbed one from the counter, and they downed the cups at the same time.
"Why not?" asked Sam curiously.
"He's grown unkind." Santana shrugged. "I shouldn't complain, he's a great customer. But as a woman and as someone who respects the Queen, I disapprove. Tell me, have you stopped loving her?"
"A few months is barely enough time to forget a woman I've loved most of my life, Santana. I should have never told you. I don't want to speak of her and him."
"Please, Sam. Do you honestly believe I wouldn't have found out on my own. I know you. I see the way you look at her, and I see the way you watch him. Such bitterness. Do me a favor?" her eyes darkened. "Just be careful."
Sam frowned. He noticed how she never said Mercedes' name, even though she was clearly talking about her. "Mer-" her hand was on his mouth in a second.
"Are you insane?" she asked in hushed tones, glaring at him. "He has ears and eyes everywhere. Do you know what would happen if anyone knew what you thinking of doing? You would lose your head. Trust me, Sam, for once. Don't be foolish." Slowly, she removed her hand. "Whatever you do, be smart. I don't want to see your head on a stick."
"Since when have you liked me?" Sam grinned.
"The rule is, I can do whatever I want to you and the rest of the gang, but no outsider is allowed to lay a finger on you. It's the rules, fish face. Some rules are meant to be honored." She smiled genuinely. "Now go. Never hesitate to visit me." Sam nodded and hugged her again. "Be careful." She whispered and locked up after him. For the first time, in a long time, she felt hope.
.
"I've pushed back all business affairs for the morning. There's just so much work a man can do. When they told me I was going to be king, I wasn't expecting such a boring life." the loud voice echoed through entrance hall and from his place in the doorway, Sam could see his father and the Queen making his way to him.
She seemed older than she seemed a few months ago. The hint of sparkle in her eyes had disappeared and her mouth, still full and inviting seemed unaccustomed to smiling.
"Father." Sam nodded and stood straight.
The King pulled him into a tense hug, before laughing and turning to Mercedes. "Happy yet?" He looked back at Sam. "You were her favorite, you know. She's been a bore ever since you left. Go on then, give your mother a hug. Maybe it will be enough to spare us from her moping."
"Step-mother." Mercedes corrected quietly.
Sam smiled at the correction a pulled her into his arms. Part of him wanted to squeeze tightly, never to let go. Another part wanted to carry her away to paradise. But the third part, the most logical one, wanted to give his father the illusion of safety.
"I've missed your voice," he said honestly. "You stopped coming to our quarters a few months before I left."
With a glance at the King, Mercedes smiled sadly. "Everything comes to an end. My visits were causing more harm than good."
"Nonsense." The king shook his head. "They loved your visits."
"Let me correct my statement." Her eyes flicked to Sam and held. "They were causing me harm. I've business to attend to. I'm pleased you've returned, Samuel."
"Ah, Business!" the king laughed. "The little woman has an imagination worth noting. Her 'business' deals with books and children. Not a business, my boy, but woman duties."
Sam noted the subtle tensing of Mercedes' jaw and the balling of her fists before she relaxed into an apologetic smile. "He's right of course. How silly of me."
Just as she turned, Sam took a hold of Mercedes' hand. "Could I visit you later?"
"That would be a bad idea." Something flashed in her eyes. He couldn't pinpoint it has it wasn't something he had ever seen in her.
"Nonsense!" The King clapped a hand on their shoulders. "My Queen and my favorite heir should not be strangers. This afternoon, Samuel, will be spent with the delightful Mercedes."
Mercedes shook away from the men's grasps and walked away with rushed footsteps. Only once did she turn to catch his eye.
He understood it now, what he had seen in her eyes. It was a yearning for something forbidden, a sinful sentiment of love for the wrong person. It was what he felt every time he watched her. It was what he felt since the day his father married the exotic princess.
And however bittersweet the realization was, it pleased him because the thirty-second son of King Dwight III did not go unnoticed by the Queen, who was 7 years his senior.
Reviews are lovely xx
I had intended on ending this here, but I've had demands for more, therefor I will most likely add a chapter.
