#kbtt

Tagged by my dear friend @jmhwriterblog. The words I needed to find were: heart, dig, velvet, dark, and chain.

I have only one story in the works that contained them all, so I’ll introduce a story that is quite long already (87,000+ words) and very dear to my heart, especially since it started from a random dream and grew like a fever. 

Kingdom Beneath the Tower

Synopsis: A regal drama focusing on an older king who finally takes a bride at the instance of his council and struggles to handle her presence in his world while keeping a dying kingdom from being left behind to the advances of the future. 

And here goes...

HEART

He was accustomed to women who knew well the body of a man, women who often indulged in more affairs than him. But this woman, his bride and now wife, was new, not only in body but in concept. He wasn't meant to be her first anything, but the Ignus Festival demanded blood for the revitalization of the kingdom. He didn't believe in such fantastical nonsense, but if it kept the simmering rage of his people from boiling over, then he was willing to play along. But he hadn't expected such a reaction. He expected the pain; he expected resistance, and to some degree, he expected compliance. But he didn't anticipate the force of her scream that spoke the truth of her heart and that would echo for ages in the corridors of his mind, leaving its mark like scratches carved into stone.

DIG (Digging)

As she started down the path lined with overgrown weeds smothering out the flowers struggling to grow beneath, she paused and stopped low, digging her fingers into the damp and cool soil to free the weeds from their hold on the earth. Ripping the weeds away, she piled them at her side in a wild mess of brown and green and blanched white roots. She cleared away most of what she could reach and brushed her fingers gently over the stems and leaves of the struggling flowers, hoping to tease them back to life with the hope of sunlight and exposure.

VELVET

The low murmur of whispers invaded her dreams, rousing her from sleep. Rubbing her eyes, she groaned and lifted herself upward. The whispering stopped, and she opened her eyes to find three women gawking at her. She scrambled to cover her chest with the blanket as her cheeks flushed red, embarrassed by the state of herself. As the haze of her deep sleep cleared, she recalled where she was and the night that left her bare and sleeping alone on a velvet settee.

DARK (a word I use to an UNHEALTHY extent so I found the best use of it)

“You truly have nothing of value to offer the union. The other kings and I, we have heard the rumors of how hard your winters are affecting your people. And I see the taking of a bride now to be a drowning man’s surrender to save a doomed nation. Some of the other kings have sons who are of age, ready and primed to take the throne, and you only just now take a wife. You are nearly twenty years behind the rest of us, Vincent, and your kingdom is still stuck in the dark ages. Your bride is a cry for help, not a sign of allegiance or a testament to the future.”

CHAIN

He lifted himself out of the tub and toweled off quickly, discarding the damp cloth on the floor for the servants to retrieve in the morning. He was tried and beaten down, too weary from fighting both physically and mentally, and all he sought was sleep. Before stumbling blindly into bed, he paused at his dresser and retrieved a pair of linen trousers and peeled them on to cover his nudity and shield his softening erection. He would only rise once more if he collided with her soft and warm and sweet-smelling skin. Best to keep himself shackled, even if the chains that bound him were sheer linen. Though, if he pushed her, if he shook her shoulder and roused her from sleep, he knew she would let him touch her, let him kiss her body, taste her curves, and sink into her warmth.

This was quite fun and inspired me to fall in love with this story again. I throw the following words out to the void. Anyone who is daring (or bored) may seek them out: human, storm, deal, father, and flame.

Kingdom Beneath the Tower | Story Aesthetics

The king marched toward her and stopped only when he stood over her in a stature as oppressive as the armored guards at her back. “You must join me.”

She lifted her head high to look him in the eyes with a sour frown. “If I say no?”

The king’s lips twisted into a scowl, and he narrowed his eyes. He held up his hand, signaling for the guards to retreat to a comfortable distance from the couple. Once they were away, he leaned forward and hovered his lips by her ear where his steady, warm breaths rustled the rich curls of her hair at her temple. 

“This may not be what you wish, and I understand if you are afraid, but if you do not walk with me by choice, you will be made to walk by force.”

He straightened and offered his hand. 

On the night of the Ignus Festival, it is customary for the king to seal his marriage to a new bride. Doing so promises a future of health and stability for the people and its lands as her sacrifice in blood is enough to breathe fresh life into the world. 

After a year of famine and disease ripped through the kingdom, the people have a sour taste for their reclusive king who seems indifferent to their struggles. Though he cares nothing for the burden of a wife, even one meant to serve in body and not in mind, he accepts the marriage to soothe the superstitious fears of his people and keep their hatred from rising to rebellious heights.