Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop.

Chapter Three

Anyone who had seen the Queen but a week after the wedding would have claimed that she seemed happy enough. But for some reason, there was always something holding her back. She never laughed. She never cried. She spoke very little. She just smiled good-naturedly as if she were a child prompted to be polite. Indeed, no one really knew what to think of her.

The king, on the other hand, was almost tumultuous with his contagious smiles and never-ending good moods… No one had ever seen him so happy. People began to think that maybe the marriage was the best thing to happen. It was agreed that it would have been nice if it had lasted longer, however, because after the first week, things started going downhill.

The kind smiles the queen had held on her angelic face had seemed to vanish. She no longer seemed so content. The little she had spoken before, although pleasant, was not so pleasant anymore. The castle attendants and courtiers were shocked at the attitude this girl could muster up when she did not get things her way. The meek little princess that had come to stay had now become the coldhearted queen, who nobody wanted to wait on or look in the face, or speak to, or to serve… She scared everyone witless.

One morning, a loud argument was heard throughout the castle.

"I can't stand this anymore, I want my own quarters!"

"Julia, will you please calm down? Now, hold on…" He put his hands up in defense as she shot him a glare. If looks could kill…

"Enough! I've had ENOUGH! I will not just stand here and let you do this to me, you… you stupid benevolent, peace-loving, over-emotional king! If I handled my country this way, as if I was on PMS twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, it would be in ruins! – No, don't you touch me!" She slapped his hands aside as he tried to grab her shoulders to comfort her.

"Damn it woman, just tell me what you want and have it over with!" He snapped.

She took a step back, as if wondering at how deep and threatening his voice had just become.

 "You can give me my own quarters in the north wing," knowing full well that Spike's was in the south. And with that, she strode off.

No longer could you expect the king to be smiling – at any time. He yelled and ranted and lashed out nearly as much as the future queen did. Obviously, his wife was not the nicest person to him. More and more could you see him drinking whiskey straight out of the bottle, and smoking cigarette after cigarette after cigarette. He was losing weight, not very attractive for his already lanky physique – his health was deteriorating, and he really didn't seem to notice or care.

He would look at his wife as often as he could without expecting a scathing glare. Every time his eyes held a helpless, pained expression (it was either that or spite)… They would glaze over and he would simply sit and stare, as if trying to figure something out, until she turned. He would look away, maybe debating on whether bringing it up would be the best thing to do or not.

Spike decided that if he gave her things, she might be slightly more pleased with him. He had already tried to touch her and kiss her a bit more, thinking it might help. But that had only made her far more unpleasant towards him. So much so, that she would not even stay in the same room with him for more than ten minutes. So, he began to buy her expensive diamond and pearl jewelry, antique vases worth a fortune, and the finest silk clothing in all the land…

Although this strategy seemed to work best to please her, she grew tired of it, as she had with everything else. Spike decided to have a talk with his bride, to see what was troubling her… Because even though they both fought like pit-bulls, he loved her so much. He had thought about it seriously, not long after their argument the week prior, and knew that he would give his life for her (no matter how much of a bitch she was to him). Indeed, if she knew what he would be willing to sacrifice for her, she would not act this way anymore. They wouldn't have to fight any more, and she would love him. He was sure. 

"Julia?" He knocked on her door and let himself in. The sight that greeted him made him fall to his knees, breathless.

His wife was on the window seat, in the arms of the platinum-haired man. It was obvious what they were planning to do before he had entered. They both looked up, neither with enough decency to at least act surprised.

            "Julia…" He gasped, looking up into her face, and trying to see some sign of remorse, or even pity. He began to breathe unevenly in restrained rage, as he saw nothing but dull hatred. "I loved you… how could you do this…"

            The platinum-haired man had now sprung to his feet, unsheathing his sword.

            "She's coming with me," he stated simply, with force.

            As Spike reached for his own sword, while trying to swallow the lump in his throat, the man lunged forward, striking Spike's face. Immediately, blood started spurting from what should have been an eye. He clutched his face for a moment, bellowing with all of his might so that nearly the entire kingdom could hear the cry of a man whose heart had broken into a million pieces.

            "No! I won't let you do this to me!" He lunged, hands gripped so tightly over the weapon that they were bone-white, and lashed out again and again and again until Julia and her lover were most absolutely dead. He fell once more to his knees, sobbing and clutching the wound on his face. The blood from the two bodies and Spike's eye began to ooze silently and forebodingly onto the expensive Chinese rug, staining the Julia's beautiful silk gown… The finest silk in all the land…

            As people around the castle started to gather in the hallway adjoining the queen's room, not a word was heard. The entire castle had gone silent with shock and immediate grief. This was a broken man… This was not their king.

            They watched him slowly, contemplatively get to his feet and sheath his bloodied sword, surveying the room's contents as if for the first time. He turned to look into their faces, daring them to accuse, to point their fingers, scream, rage, give sentence. But they just stood, tears of sadness sliding down their torn faces.

            "Never again will I trust or love another woman." He announced thus, quietly. "Eve brought suffering to Adam and the human race eons ago… I should have remembered that this was still a truth. I was foolish, and it will not happen again." He strode from the room, his remaining eye forward, filled with hatred and malice and the thirst for revenge against his Eve… It would not matter that the next woman would not have Julia's face or virtues… He would kill her all the same, along with the next, and the next, and the next. He would kill them all until his heart was no longer broken.

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