(A/N): This is a one-shot discussion between King Clarkson and Queen Amberly. Ideally, it would take place during the progress of The One.
"I want her eliminated and I want her out." Clarkson's fury was all too evident as he paced the throne room, his hands balled into fists.
The queen stood by his side as always, her eyes wide with worry. "Clarkson, he loves her. Isn't love stronger than anything we can do? Wasn't it for us?"
The king stopped. He turned to face his wife. "It's irrelevant," he snapped, though his gaze seemed faraway. "She's a nuisance and I want her out of the Selection."
Queen Amberly rose. She met the king in stride, and they walked together—two unsteady rulers, one fuming and livid, the other calm and gentle. Many years ago, they had believed they could even each other out.
Amberly still remembered the day Clarkson had proposed to her. She stood in the ballroom, clad in a ruffled white dress that swept across her body all the way down to her toes. It was supposed to be a wedding dress, and it was the king's idea of jest: both girls were to come to the revealing wearing coronation attire, but only one would receive Prince Clarkson's hand and the throne. She remembered how her heart had thumped ferociously in her chest, threatening to steal her composure away from her, and how she had reeled her wild emotions into line. That day, her eyes never strayed from Clarkson's face.
It was impossible to forget how composed, how relaxed he looked, with all of the muscles in his face evened out. In that one moment, he was peaceful. He was happy.
When he had stepped before the two girls, holding a ring, Amberly had held her breath. She knew what was to pass: Clarkson would kneel before one girl, signifying a proposal, and the other would be ushered away so that the wedding proceedings could begin. It was all too customary, and it had all been rehearsed beforehand. The only thing that hadn't been rehearsed was the union of Maxon and the chosen girl, whose identity remained a mystery.
The memory was perfectly clear in her mind: Clarkson walking towards the girls, a distant smile on his face, and then standing before them. Just before he turned to Amberly, she remembered him whispering, "I love you both. But today, I choose a ruler. Not a wife."
A ruler. Not a wife.
These were the words that had also echoed through Amberly's mind when she watched time etch worry lines into her husband's face, wrinkles crease his brow, impatience cross his face. After Maxon's birth and the increasing prominence of the rebels, all traces of their love had vanished, replaced by an eerie sense of acceptance between them. They were rulers, not a couple. Their loyalty was first and foremost to Illea and not to each other.
Clarkson had been everything Amberly had dreamed of, once upon a time. And she still loved him passionately. But there were times when she doubted his methods—doubted the way he ordered the servants around, doubted the way he spoke to her with such coarse abandon, doubted their union when he moved to a separate bed to sleep in by night. But how could she complain? Clarkson was running a kingdom. Her woes were nothing compared to those of an entire kingdom that he balanced by the day.
Today, she attempted one more time to try and convince him to see the truth. "Clarkson, she is only trying to do what's right. We were both young, once. We made mistakes. If Maxon chooses her, she will become a ruler."
"Will she?" King Clarkson responded. "How can you say that? How can you know that she will be able to live this life? She's already proved that she will go to no end to achieve what she wants. She has no sense of compromise. America Singer is stubborn, selfish, and childish. I cannot have her charming my son into marrying her while her skills as a ruler are abysmal."
"Clarkson," Amberly whispered, trailing a finger down his arm. "Give her more time."
"I've given her time! I've been overly generous with her. When she intervened at the other girl's whipping, I was furious but allowed her to stay. When she pulled the caste stunt, Maxon pleaded with me to let her stay and I complied. Now this at the Convicting? She cannot be tamed, Amberly, and I have no use for her anymore."
"If America Singer leaves the Selection, Maxon will have want for no other girl," Amberly pleaded.
Clarkson thought for a moment. "Will he?" Then, the dullness in his eyes lifted for a moment. "I have a better idea. What if we tell Maxon to start over?"
This was not what Amberly was expecting. "What?"
"These girls are all mediocre at best, and it's clear to me now that none of them show the signs of a true leader. So why not start over? We'll tell Maxon to choose new girls—girls with potential. We'll even pacify the rebels for a time, and we can wish this Singer girl goodbye."
"But Clarkson. Maxon has grown to care for these girls. He loves them."
He turned to her for a final time. "What is love in the face of an empire?" He stormed out of the room, very likely to explain this seemingly glorious plan to Maxon.
Queen Amberly sighed. There were so many things she desired for her husband. Being a queen was no simple task, but she'd known that when she'd entered the Selection so many years ago. What she hadn't known was that people had the capacity to change as Clarkson had. That the same man that she had whispered secrets to in her room in the late hours of the night, the man who had kissed her and laughed with her through the days and nights, could become hard and—almost—unfeeling.
But what surprised her most of all was that, though she had fallen deeply in love with the young Clarkson who had whispered and kissed and laughed, she still found love in her heart for this one.
For this Clarkson was not a man, but a king.
Her king.
Not a husband, but a ruler.
I know Kiera Cass is writing The Queen, a novella about Queen Amberly's journey through her Selection, but this is a rendition of how I think the Amberly-Clarkson relationship would be.
I mean come on. King Clarkson is a donkeyhole. We can all attest to that.
:)