The Tragedy of King Oberon and Queen Titania.
Chapter Three: Angelo's Dream
Disclaimer: I do not own A Midsummer Night's Dream. William Shakespeare does. Not me. Aww.
"Huzzah! I won!" I yelled, at the top of my lungs. I had just won a game of chess against his father, the King.
"Ah! I have been defeated! Oh woe! Oh woe!" joked Oberon as he lovingly patted my hair.
"Father, I must inquire—will I ever rule the Athenian Wood?" I asked.
Father gave me a weird look. I could not have told if he was angry or upset. However, it was neither. "Son, you are too young to think of such things. Childhood is about laughter, fun, and growth of knowledge and the body. Why do you ask?"
I decided to let the cat out of the bag. "Well, Puck keeps on teasing me that I am a 'changeling' … And that I will never gain the throne."
I sighed. Normally, a parent would have just comforted an upset child, but instead, his face turned cherry red with anger. "Puck?! Puck has done such a horrible thing? How disgraceful! I shall talk to him immediately! I shall have his head—"
"Father, there is no need for such punishment," I said, knowing that he never broke his promises.
"Fine, fine. You show too much mercy," he said, "A sign of a good king. Carefully analyze the situation before you make any decisions. Especially punishments."
"Of course. I already know that, Father."
"I know. I trust you son, to make good decisions, okay? Try not to pick a fight with Puck. He knows no better."
"Enough, you two! Angelo! Puck! I thought you were mature enough to handle riding on a horse. Perhaps I was wrong," scolded an irritated Oberon, during their ride to the Northern Wood.
I must have made Father so mad… I feel so guilty, yet, I do not. Puck deserved to be in more trouble than me. He started it. Not me. I did not start that fight. I did not deserve to have my name hissed by my Father's dear words.
"You are right son."
"Mother…? Is that you?"
"What do you mean 'is that you'? It is me."
"Sorry.. But I thought you where back in the Athenian Wood, making sure that everything was alright."
"Relax. A mother deserves the right to see her son whenever she wants. Do you not agree, Angelo?"
"No! Of course not, Mother! I love you. I love you so much."
"I know. I love you dearly as well. Is there something troubling you?"
"Yes.. In fact, Robin Goodfellow got me into a fight again in front of Father, and he saw. He was so angry at me."
"Do not worry. Come, embrace me, and I shall sing you a lullaby, so that you may forget your troubles for a while."
I moved closer to my Mother, laying my head on her soft thighs, "Sing to me, Mother. So that I may forget.. Only a short time… So that I may forget the pains of life for a while.."
"The stars silently twinkle, as you lay your head on your pillow, murmuring good-night to me.." my mother softly sang, stroking my hair lovingly.
"The day tires you, with eyelids drooping, and with loss of interest in the world.." my Mother continued, massaging my face, trying to destroy my stress.
"The dream world, awaits, good Angelo, are you willing to take their hand..?" her soft hands then moved to my neck, touching it softly with her fingers.
"'Good-night Angelo', says the moon," My mother.. How divine.. She stroked my neck so softly… No. Something is wrong… I.. Can't breathe…
"'Good-night Angelo' ,says the stars," Mother…? What are you doing? You're.. Nails.. Are like claws… Why…? Why are you doing this to me..?
'Good-night son,' I say." "Mother… Why?" My mother looked down on me, her full lips in a cruel smile, as her claws pierced my neck.
" I love you."
Wait… The face changed… This was not her.. She would never do this kind of sin. I felt the blood tickle my body, and my vision.. Was getting fuzzy. I whispered, "Who… Are you?"
"A person sent by your real father, dear Prince."
Breathing.. So hard… Could not take it anymore… Goodbye.
"Lord, what fools these mortals be. Love looks not with eyes, but with the mind. Therefore, cupid is painted blind… Love between child and mother, how strong it must be."
The woman then looked at the boy, whose eyes were closed shut. His heart was silent, and his warmth has suddenly grown cold. She gazed at the child, with her crimson red eyes, and acknowledged that by looking at him, he had a bright future ahead. "Sorry, child. That was what I was ordered to do."
"Angelo!" cried Oberon. It was the middle of the night, and he was woken by the scream of his son. He rushed to Angelo's side, to see the boy's throat clawed out. Accursed scarlet stained the king's hands, as he cradled his son in his arms.
"Lord. I am sorry. The barrier… It must have broken while we were asleep and I.. I did not detect it.. A creature of the night must have come…" Robin whispered, sorrowful for the boy. Sure, they did fight very often, but deep, deep, deep, down in the fairy's heart, he did respect him, and loved him as an honorable friend and prankster.
"It is fine, Puck. I… Just loved him so much. I suppose that is the feeling that mortals feel when they lose someone…"
"Mortals are creatures that eventually die, my lord. I am sorry, but that is the truth—"
"How dare you say such rash things! Do not say such things about the unnatural death of my child. He did not die of old age, and he did not die of disease. He died of a murder! How can that relate to the death of my only son?!" cried Oberon, and for the first time, tears rolled his soft cheeks. He cradled his son in his arms, "Angelo.. Angelo.. Angelo.."
"Forgive me… I was so rash.. I.. I'm sorry.." The fairy then looked at Angelo's face, now serene.
"No.. Forgive me, dear Puck, I am.. Just frustrated, so angry.. Yet.. So sad," confessed Oberon. "I wonder.. Do mortals also feel this complexity?"
"I suppose… Those mortals do feel that way."
"Come, Puck. Let us go back to the Athenian Wood. I must tell Titania at once," commanded Oberon, with his voice not having that certain fierceness.
"Of course," replied Puck, as he helped the dead body of Angelo on to the white stallion.
The ride back to the Athenian Wood was quiet, not because there was a fight, but because they wanted to remember the boy that they had once known, and had suddenly died last night, knowing he is just little above their heads right now.
__________________________________________
It was a cool night in the country of India, faraway from the magical land of Athens. A king anxiously waited for someone, walking back and forth upon his balcony.
All of a sudden, the person he was waiting for appeared, in a gust of wind. "Well, did you do the job?" asked the Indian King.
"Of course I did. I never go back on my promises," the Mistress of Spiders said, stroking her long locks of blonde hair, while her eight hairy legs kept her standing. "Where is the delicacies that you promised me?"
"Before I give them to you, tell me. How did you get revenge on the wretched creatures who took my son fifteen years ago? What torture?" asked the Indian King, with a sadistic smile.
"Ah, mortal. Be not so demanding, for I can kill you with a single stroke of my sharp claws," warned the Mistress of Spiders. She then continued, "It was relatively easy. The creatures that had taken your son were fairies."
"Fairies? Are you kidding me?" the Indian King then chuckled.
"This is your second warning. Disturb me once again, and I shall kill you." the Mistress hissed.
"Sorry. What were you saying, my Mistress?"
"Well, I thought it would be fun to mess around with the fairies… So I killed exactly fifteen of them. I did not care about their age or their gender, but it was very, very fun. I got the king, queen, and your son so mad… I believe that I caused some fairies to revolt against them. Ha!" the Mistress then chuckled, with her white fangs gleaming in the moonlight. "This caused the king and your son to go to the 'Northern Wood' to get help… Ha ha ha ha! They are such idiots, they act like you mortals… No offense."
"Go on.."
"The trio—a fairy, the king, and your son—cast a barrier to protect them, but it was so weak I was able to sweep in, and enter your son's dreams… Where I… Killed him."
"Dear Mistress of Spiders, this was not what I asked for! I asked for revenge, but not the death of my own son!" cried the Indian King, stomping his foot on the cement.
"Ah, but you just wanted revenge, naïve one. You claimed, 'I want revenge against those who had taken my son.', and I listened to that. I killed fifteen fairies, from their own wood." the Mistress replied, annoyed.
"But that still does not answer my question! Why did you kill my son?!"
"That is simple, stupid one. As a strong woman for many centuries, I developed the ability to see the minds of men all alike I could see everything—their thoughts, their lovers, their greed, their lust—everything. I now ask you this; why do you want the son that you share with a mistress, whom you supported for seventeen years before her death?"
"I love her. I love her so much. Those fairies did not deserve him."
"Jealousy, hatred, love, lust, and greed are the causes and answers to all questions. How pathetic you mortals be. You all have to be complex," she said. "It makes me sick."
"It still does not give you the right to pass judgment on my son! How dare you! You vile, no good, evil witch who should burn—!"
The Indian King did not dare finish his words, for he knows that saying those insults towards a woman like her will only have one result.
"You have irritated me too much." The Mistress the quickly impaled the Indian King with her magical claws, with great precision. The claws had pierced the vile heart of the Indian King, who then collapsed to stain the floor a painful red. "These mortals make me so sick."