The King's New Toy - (Part 1 of the Ignaius-Saga)

The Verdict

It was rather late at night when the doors to Variel's quarters were opened without any warning or knock. Tanier never announced himself, unless when he sent a servant. He was the king, this was his palace and he entered wherever he wanted whenever he wanted. It was a very minor detail, but it helped to rub this little fact in with everyone living under this roof.

The room was almost pitch black, save a single candle burning on the bedside table. Variel was lying face-down on the bed, still clothed and wide awake, though his back was to the door. He froze when he heard the door open, and since no announcement came with the entry, he strongly suspected the king had just walked into his new room/cell. The young man hadn't moved from the bed once since being led in here, and the best he could hope for was that he would continue to have a bed to sleep upon instead of a filthy straw mat in a dank cell.

It was disorienting to step into a room that was almost dark and be met with silence. After his eyes began to adjust, Tanier could make out the boy's form on the bed. His heart was missing a beat, as the complete lack of response awakened the fear the boy might be dead, and this fear was still lingering, even when he pushed the thought out of his mind.

"Variel!" the king's voice was stern. "Is this your idea of an appropriate way to greet me?"

Variel flinched at the scolding tone and slowly turned onto his back. His face was paler than usual and his eyes were rimmed with red, giving away his private weeping earlier that night. He bowed his head in shame as he muttered a hoarse apology. "...Please forgive me, sire. I... I-I meant no disrespect..." He didn't bother trying to come up with a reason he hadn't reacted to the king's entry, because anything would just be a pathetic excuse the man probably didn't have the patience for right now.

"Get up!" the king ordered. "You are pathetic, full of self pity. You have five minutes to get up, wash yourself and make yourself presentable. I will wait."

He sat down at the small table. His impatience with the boy was not an act. There were many thing he couldn't care less about. Like what the young man wanted to dedicate his talents to or if he preferred men or women. But he had no tolerance at all for weakness and a lack of insight into the necessities that the position of a young noble required. Variel was still young and thus vulnerable. Tanier just hoped it was not too late for him to learn and adapt to the role the king was still hoping for the young man to play .

"...yes, sire..." Variel pushed himself off of the bed, straightened out the comforter which he'd been lying on top of, and went to wash his face. The visit to the college and that wonderful yet brief time spent by the lake seemed years ago. Now, his king was angry with him and thought him a rapist.

"You should have known better than to think you deserved something good in your life," said a dark little voice in the back of his mind, the self-doubt and self-loathing planted their by his father long ago. Fittingly enough, the voice always sounded like his father.

After washing up and straighting out his clothing, Variel took the candle and lit a few more about the room to light it up. When the five minutes he'd been allotted had passed, he stood before the king with his hands clasped before himself, head still bowed in shame.

"...How may I serve you... Your Majesty...?"

The king looked up at the young men. "A lot better!" he concluded and just the faint shadow of a smile appeared on his face. "I expect from everyone in my service dedication, diligence and loyalty. From you I expect more. Your rank and title asks for more. I expect from you to become what your title says: A person who is fit to rule. Self pity has no place in this. Your family may have decided at some point that your interests make you a sissy. I disagree with them. I don't think being a man is defined by your interests, but by your character. Please do not make me reconsider."