The Witch in the Forest and the Boy King with his New Clothes
Gilbert's end of the bargain
Generations of White Kings have grown exceedingly fond of clothes, each one more so than the next, they would spend all their money on grandeur clothes and dressing well. They would never be seen in events with the same clothes twice, and if they could, they would have cared for nothing other than to show off their new clothes.
In their great kingdom where the White Kings rule under the protection of their Witch, many strangers come and goes. Two weavers arrive in town, they soon establish themselves to the towns to possess many magnificent fabrics from a great many different places, and they can weave the most exquisite clothes from the plainest of cloth.
Gilbert Beilschmidt bolt up from his golden throne encrusted with glittering jewels and flip apart his cloak enthusiastically. The morning meeting today barely started before he heard of the weavers arrival, and he ordered his guards to bring them to him immediately.
The two weavers was brought before the King and his subjects, and they bow deeply.
"Your Majesty." They greeted in unison.
"I have heard. That before me are two of the greatest weavers to have grace all kingdoms." Gilbert asked, looking at the two proud, but very oblivious men.
One of the weavers barely opened his mouth before he was cut off by Gilbert.
"You have got to stay here and weave beautiful clothes for me every day. I will give you everything you need; I will give you riches beyond your imagination." Gilbert demanded.
The two weavers stumbled back a step in shock, they look at each other and around at the other subjects in the court who all averted their eyes to the king's demand. "W-We absolutely can't, Your Majesty." Said the next weaver, who have already gathered all his courage to speak.
The smile that split his face apart gradually healed into one that is blacker than the bottom of the pots. Gilbert let out a snort, before turning and stomping up the stairs to his throne. He sat down heavily and slouched against the sides, staring at the weavers.
Nobody in court dares to even breathe a little harder, so quiet and still are the air that the guards could swear that they can even hear the bees buzzing in the castle's garden miles away. Everyone wait with bated breath, sneaking glances at the unmoving King, wondering what his next erratic decision will be.
"The world have no need of weavers that would not weave for me." Gilbert declare. "GUARDS."
Loud trumpet tore through the King's demand in the court, the guard at the door announced the arrival of the Prince of the West, Ludwig. The White King's only brother, the favoured one. He walked in surrounded by sighs of relief emitted by the Kingdom's subjects, standing beside the two weavers, he greeted his brother.
"What brings you here?" Gilbert knitted his brow.
"I have heard of the weavers. I have come to see with my eyes how good they are."
"Hm.." Gilbert let out, narrowing his eyes. " You want to see how good they are?"
"Yes."
The side of the King's lips tug itself upwards, "Tell me, my dearest brother, do you love me?" Gilbert asked, out of the blue, as though the wrath he have showed earlier was nothing but an illusion.
"Without a doubt." Ludwig answered immediately.
"Are you loyal to me from the bottom of your heart?"
"To you, and only you." Ludwig bowed deeply, placing his hand on his heart.
"My minsters in court, my eyes and my ears, my hands, and my feet, do you all love me? Will you all serve me and only me with earnest devotion unaccompanied of any reservation or misgiving?"
"To you, and only you. Your Majesty." The court chimes in unison.
The smile on Gilbert's face is reignited, he let out a hearty laugh. "Weavers." He called out.
"Yes, Your Majesty." The weavers answered without hesitation.
"Do the two of you, assures me that you are not of the stupid sort?"
"Of course not." The weaver chimes in unison.
"Then it must be fate that have brought the weavers here to my glorious kingdom, for I have in my possession, the most magnificent threads and silks passed down by the very first King, not only are the colours uncommonly fine but it have one, very, unique, quality." Gilbert smirk, looking at the weavers, then to Ludwig, then to each and every single one of the subjects in the court. He stands up and explains: "You see, the threads are made from the finest fibre of the spiders born on the twelfth spring on the twelfth dawn, they are intertwined with the core of gold threads as thin as hair. For twelve days, the threads are soaked in the mixture of the purest gemstone of twelve different sort, crushed into powder and stirred in with the blood of the White Kings on their 12th birthday, they have a wonderful way of becoming invisible to anyone who proclaimed to have loved me but do not, to serve me but would not, or… for our two brilliant weavers out of this kingdom and my people in my towns, somebody who is unusually stupid."
"Guards." He called out. "Bring me the two oak boxes from the royal room. Make haste."
The guards soon drag out two boxes made from carved wood before the court.
"Open it." Gilbert demanded.
The first guard opens it and as his eyes casted into the box, his face changed.
"Beautiful? Isn't it?" Gilbert asked, observing the guard's face intensively.
The guard slowly nodded, he turned around and bowed deeply, hiding his face away from his King. "I-I have never laid my eyes on anything as out of this world as these threads."
Gilbert's smile widen with the answer as he walks down the carpeted steps to where the boxes are. Bending down, he picked up a spool and held it up high against the lights. "My beloved ministers, can you see how brilliant these colours are? See how soft and light they are against my clutch that I can only feel the hardness of the wooden spool."
"My good brother… This.." Ludwig gasp.
Soft mutters and exclamation lightly fills the airs.
"Can you see them? Ludwig." Gilbert move his admiring glance from the spool in his fingers to Ludwig's face. His brother's widened eyes are crystal blue, unmoving, they stare at back at him.
The prince's brow furrowed all that slightly, the creases between them gradually deepens.
"Can you?" the King asked again, narrowing his red eyes.
"Yes. Yes..! My good King, my good brother. They are so enchanting I can't find myself looking at them, forgive me for resting my eyes on your face, I fear that another look upon the spool will bring tears to my eyes." Ludwig cried out loud.
Gilbert's smile soften, he walks up to Ludwig and place his palm on his cheek, gently he wipes away a tear that threatens to fall out of the prince's eyes with his thumb. "I'm glad." He whispered to the prince in a court now stunned in silence.
"How magnificent." One of the weavers suddenly sigh. "These threads will create cloths of patterns and colours unlike what the human eyes have ever seen."
"It is such an honour to weave clothes from these threads. Alas, clothes made from these threads can only be our greatest work yet!" The other weaver quickly chimes in.
"I see you lots are not only talented as weavers, but you must clever too to see these threads so beautifully. Marvellous, I demand you two to start your work immediately." Gilbert exclaimed excitedly. "You will be rewarded very handsomely."
"Our pleasure, Your Majesty."
"Send words to my kingdom that I will present myself to them in clothes made from these exceptional threads, I will tour the towns in them." He then declared to the minister of public processions. "Bring my weavers to the best rooms and serve them only the best food. The morning court is now dismissed."
All the towns was talking about for days on end is this splendid cloth, everyone is excited to see if their neighbour is the stupid one. The day have finally come for the King to show the clothes he have ordered with his people. The weavers have already arrived early in the morning and placed the clothes in the room, the servants were widening their eyes in hushed exhilaration as they served the King with his morning routine.
The prince barge into the room as Gilbert is sitting in front of a mirror, his hair is comb by a lady in waiting. His eyes met Ludwig's in the mirror. "What brings you here?"
"Brother…" he started, then looking at the lady in waiting.
"Go out. I'll do it myself." Gilbert took the comb from the lady in waiting, she let out a quick bow before moving out of the room, closing the door behind her. "What is it?" he asked, trying to comb the knots out of his morning hair violently.
"Brother…" Ludwig muttered, then taking over the comb from Gilbert's hands, he gently teases the knots out with his fingers and comb. "I have given some thought, there's no need to show the ministers nor the people your new clothes. I mean, there must surely be unusually stupid people somehow, they can't see anything, and it would mean that you will be shown in entirety to them. That is not a good thing. Right?" Gilbert's hair is not too long, and Ludwig's hands are quick to soothe out his hair. Ludwig is fair, but even the back of his hand darkens against his brother's snow white hair.
"You might be right." Gilbert stood up; he turns around to see his brother's blue eyes, the very same colour that would be his own had he not been the one to inherit the Witch's covenant. Giving him a pat on the side of his shoulder, he walk towards the mirror and stand in front of it, observing himself. "But rules are rules, West."
"Now tell me." Gilbert continues, pulling apart his night gown as it slips pass his shoulder, down and pools around his feet, exposing that pale, powdery white skin. "Do you think the unusually stupid will enjoy what they see? For I chose for these blue and green veins coursing through me to be seen, it's dangerous, unsound even, but I want to see the madness on their face. Just like yours… Ludwig." He turns around and extend his arms out from his side. "How do I look?"
"Gil …." Ludwig stuttered with a step back as Gilbert moves in and cover his mouth with his palm, clasping his fingers into his cheek.
"Yes….." he hissed out with great eagerness. "This face. West. It's madness. There's no perfunctory smiles nor words. You love me, and I can tell. I can…"
Tears started falling, dripping down the face and all over Gilbert's hands. "My King.." Ludwig burst out, wrapping his arms around Gilbert, and pulled him close. He hid his face in Gilbert's nape and cried, his brother always smelt like roses and bath and today is no exception.
"Come now. Don't start crying all over me again." Gilbert said, stroking the back of Ludwig's head.
"But you always let me."
"That's because you were young."
"But you also let me live."
"That's because you called me King. For that, you are worthy."
A loud knock on the door tore their attention away, it's the minister of procession informing the King that his canopy is now waiting outside. The White King walk to where the weavers left the clothes, and one by one, he put on the garments by himself in front of Ludwig. "How do I look now?"
"It's a magnificent outfit." Ludwig commented.
Gilbert smiles. He called in the noblemen, who each stoop so low onto the floor to pick up his train, they pretended to lift and hold it up high, never daring to admit that they have nothing to hold. The King proudly walks out of his room and to his splendid canopy.
So off went the King in procession. Everyone on the streets and the windows sigh and exclaim: "Oh, how fine are the King's new clothes! Don't they fit him to perfection? And see his long train!" Nobody would confess that they couldn't see anything, for that would prove that they are either disloyal to the King or a fool.
"But he hasn't got anything on." a little child cried out.
"You can't see it? Oh…" his father exclaimed in exasperation. Another person whispered: "Poor child."
"I am not stupid; the King hasn't got anything on. Look!" the child pointed at the King. "The sun always burn the White King, and the sun is burning him where the clothes should hide."
From the end of the child's fingers, the people saw how the sun rays pouring into the canopy hit where the King sat, it burns his skin raw and red where the clothes should hide, as the child have claimed.
And one person whispered to another what the child had said: "The King hasn't got anything on, look at his skin where clothes should hide."
"He hasn't got anything on!" the whole town cried out at last.
Gilbert shivered, for he know that he have lost. But this procession has got to go on, so he walked on more proudly than ever as his noblemen held high the train that they knew wasn't there at all.