Albany's Demise [And How Edgar Saves Him]

a King Lear parody

"I simply refuse to believe any of this nonsense," the new King, Edgar, declared.

Albany sighed, hiccupping almost immediately afterward. "Well, you'll have to, Your Highney-"

"It's 'Your Majesty,' Albany, not 'Your Highness,'" Edgar corrected, growing irritated. "And you cannot shorten it. It is offensive to the crown."

Albany shrugged. "Like I really care. But all of what I said is true. The cat went out with the dog, and it seems we may get a litter of dog-cats. Or…would you call them dats? Cogs?"

Edgar sighed, resting his head in his hand. It had been a month since Albany returned from his year-long trip to recuperate from the events revolving his wife's death, as well as the death of the former King Lear, and just about everyone else in seats of power besides the Duke of Albany and himself. The Earl of Kent had indeed made good of his oath to follow his master to the final journey of life - death - and successfully jumped off a cliff and drowned in the Adriatic Sea. When Albany had returned from his trip, he begged Edgar to take him as his advisor, so the good King did. Only after he agreed did he realize Albany had become a drunkard who could hardly advise Edgar to do anything but abuse the power and wealth of the Crown of England. Of course, Edgar had out-advised him, using his new wealth on restoring old alliances, helping the poor and homeless, and otherwise making good again.

However, Edgar understood little of Albany's suffering. He knew nothing of the Duke's true feelings towards the events of the previous year. He knew not how Goneril's suicide had been too much for the man. He knew not how Regan's murder had weakened him. He knew not how even Edmund's death had hurt the Duke. He knew not that Lear's death, Cordelia's death, everyone else's deaths…they had all simply been the nectar beside the ambrosia.

What Edgar did know, though, was to let the drunk ramble on about his nonsensical things, giving his input only when necessary. Eventually he dismissed the man and sent him into the gardens, knowing the flowers and shrubs would be better company to the poor Duke. Knowing Albany would stay in the garden and possibly fall asleep in it, Edgar took his chances and snuck into Albany's quarters.

The King was amazed at the state of Albany's room. Here the man was constantly drunk, yet everything was neat and tidy, including the bed. The blue velvet curtains were drawn, the sapphire-colored satin sheets on the bed folded neatly. The books on the shelves were organized by author, alphabetically, chronologically, and by color. The surface of the desk was bare, but by the state of the rest of the room, Edgar knew the contents of the drawers would be neatly organized. For a drunk, Albany's OCD sure took care of him.

"I know he must keep a journal," Edgar said to himself softly as he approached the desk.

He opened the first drawer and found it to be empty. He checked for a false bottom, but to no avail. He looked in the second drawer, but the contents were the same. It seemed as if the desk was for show, merely to look like the Duke did something with his spare time spent in his quarters.

However, in the third drawer, Edgar found the prize he was looking for: Albany's journal. The blue leather cover and chocolate brown binding was worn with use. The embossed lettering on the front read "HOWARD," no doubt Albany's name. The parchment pages were yellowing along the edges. However, it seemed the owner took care of his journal, as if it was his most prized possession.

Edgar turned the journal in his hands as he closed the drawer with his shin. He sat in the desk chair, opened the journal, and started reading.

July 1

It has been a trying day. First, the horses were not ready to be ridden, so my departure from London was delayed. Then there was rumor of a coming tempest, which made my fellow rider as skittish as his bloody horse. When I arrived home, Goneril had the gall to call me "milk-livered." I am sorry, mi'lady, if I hath offended you, but give me some credit. Without me, you would be even more of a monster. My bed, your prison? Ha! It was you who suggested the bondage that night, so do not complain that you no longer enjoy it when you feel otherwise. It was an otherwise uneventful day, but the stresses of everything that happened made today very trying.

I understand my wife is having an affair with Edmund, now supposedly the Earl of Gloucester. Do I assume surprise when she announces it, or attempts to do away with me? Or do I admit my jealousy? Edmund is an attractive young man, even if he is the bastard son of dear Theodore (who shall forever remain Earl of Gloucester in my opinion, given he was like a father or uncle to me in my times of deepest need). Must I hide my affection for him, or can I be open with my heart as the King of France was with Cordelia?

Oh, that brings up another point: I have secretly joined Team France. I support Cordelia's honesty and the King's taking her into his care. Someone needed to mar Lear's pride somehow. It merely is a shame it wasn't me.

Ah well. I will grudgingly set down my quill for the evening and lay beside my wife. Must I pretend I do not love her due to her hatred for me?

Edgar was shocked. Albany…had loved Edmund? The idea was unthinkable! The King suddenly desired to know more.

July 10

Goneril…my beloved wife…is dead. Regan, murdered by her own sister over Edmund, a mutual love. Edmund, too, dead, mortally wounded by his own brother Edgar. And, in my pain from learning of Edmund's betrayal, I made his killer King of England.

Could the gods be this cruel?

I had only recently confessed to Edmund my feelings, and he had said he felt the same. We had just started our own affair. I must admit, he made a great submissive.

But now he is dead. My heart's two desires, destroyed by knife and sword.

Of course, this was the other day. It took me this long to gather my emotions enough to compose my entry. I did manage to pen my…adventures with Edmund on random sheets of parchment, which I have folded and slipped between the pages of my journal here for safekeeping. Though it will hurt, I must, on occasion, relive the passion Edmund and I shared in our brief time together…

Edgar could read no more of the entry. He dared not touch the sheets of parchment sandwiched between the pages. The rest of the later entries contained details of Albany's grief, his journey, and his slipping sanity. Edgar discovered it was while in France that Albany started drinking, and his time in Italy fueled his alcoholism. With a pang of sadness, Edgar returned the journal to its resting place, departing Albany's room afterward. He roamed the halls of his palace aimlessly until the evening stars guided him to his bedchambers and beckoned him to sleep.

That night, Edgar dreamed Edmund spoke to him.

"Brother, I miss my lover," Edmund whispered. "Goneril and Regan are simply too much for me to handle. I cannot seem to separate them from their anger towards each other for the both of them wanting me. I want my Albany back. Please, give him back to me."

When Edgar woke, he found he was clutching a dagger. With a heavy heart, he knew what he had to do.

The sun rose in the morning as Edgar dressed. He asked his servants if he could have his breakfast alone, without Albany. In his solitude, he ate little of his meal, somehow knowing Albany would be waiting for him.

As he approached the Duke a half hour later, the man nodded.

"Please, Your Majesty," he begged, "end my misery."

Edgar closed his eyes, and Albany was slain. From their hands fell the dagger and diary. With a heavy soul, the traitorous King picked up the book and flipped to the most recent entry.

August 27

Last night I dreamt I begged Edmund to convince Edgar to save me. He sealed his promise with a kiss. When he returned in the dream, he told me we would be together again soon.

I long to feel the cold bite of the dagger slide between my ribs. I made sure to place it where Edgar would grab it upon awakening.

I can already tell he will not fail me. He is much like his brother, merely kinder-hearted. He will make a good King.

Duke Howard Albany

Author's Note:

Once again, this was written for school. It was actually part of my final for English.

Enjoy!