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Description
THE SILENT KINGDOM
A Fairy Tale

Once upon a time there was a king who though fairly young was grumpy and irritable. He had tricked the kingdom out of its rightful heir many years ago, and since then had been somewhat insecure about his hold on his subjects. Because of this he was very particular about seeing his orders followed out exactly.

The king, whose name was Thomas, had the terrible misfortune of being cursed with tear-wrenching, mind-numbing migraine headaches; once he got one all the king could do was lie down in his dark chambers and adamantly wish for silence.

Today was one of those mornings. King Thomas was lying in bed with a cool cloth on his royal forehead when his butler entered, cheerfully whistling and clattering the breakfast dishes, not realizing his horrible mistake. The king’s eye twitched. He sat up in bed. Infuriated and tormented the king then decreed total silence in the palace until he next wished it. The butler was executed at midday by silent suffocation.

Somewhat relieved, King Thomas retreated to the comfort of his darkened throne room, hoping for an afternoon nap. The pain in his head lessening to a steady throb, the king drifted off to sleep in his deeply cushioned throne.

All was well until three o’clock, the time when the school in town was let out for the day. The great bell in the town’s clock started tolling, and the children ran joyously out into the busy streets, screaming and playing, causing shouts from the street vendors they disturbed, and nervous whinnies from the horses they startled. A particularly enthusiastic screech echoed through the silent palace rooms, finding its way into the troubled head of the king, who woke with a start, in pain and furious.

King Thomas’ next royal decree was to declare silence on the entire town where he resided, with any child who made a noise having his or her tongue cut out. Somewhat subdued, the town settled in for the night, and so did the king, tucking himself into his giant bed and telling himself that his headache was bound to be gone by morning. He opened his window on the silent town with a sigh before turning over and closing his eyes . . .

Across the river, in the town opposite the palace, a wild celebration was taking place. The howls and hollers, the music and laughter, were all enough to wake the dead, and they certainly woke the king. His eyes widened as the ruckus invaded his tortured skull. He whimpered. He crawled out of bed.

He dragged his officials out of their sleeping quarters and demanded that the entire kingdom be silenced.

And so it was. From that day forward not a bird sang nor a footstep rattled without the king expressly commanding it. His subjects adjusted: slippered footwear became all the rage, and life went on as normally as possible, though all the musicians and singers in the kingdom quietly emigrated, having suddenly found themselves unemployed.

The king was content. He ate good food, he slept. He thought up more beneficial royal decrees. He fired his servants. Life was good.

One morning a new servant girl brought the king his cereal, on new cushioned ceramic dishes that did not make a sound when carried. The king, however, had less attention to spend on the dishes than on the young woman before him. She was beautiful.

He noticed her long, ebony hair as it trailed out of the knot on the back of her head. He noticed her white fingers as she balanced the tray. He noticed her deep blue eyes, carefully trained on the floor. Finally, he noticed her pale throat, long and perfect above the collar of her palace uniform. Oh, what sound might come from that throat! What songs, what poetry! The king was immediately in love.

“Please, maiden,” he chanced, catching hold of her wrist as she set down her burden. “What is your name?”

The young woman’s cobalt eyes darted upward, apparently horrified by the question. Everyone knew the punishments in place for those who spoke aloud. And though the king talked in great length, both to his court followers and to himself, he had never gone so far as to invite someone to converse with him!

The servant girl’s lower lip trembled, emphasizing the perfection of her mouth (what words!). She slowly shook her head, and, after gently freeing herself from King Thomas’ grasp, strode quickly out of the room.

The king sat, still in bed, stunned. He was very much in love, but soon he also began to feel angry – how dare she ignore him and shame him like that! Well, no one else would find out about it, that’s for sure. If she so much as whispered he would have her tongue cut out and fried, so that he could taste it without remorse.

The king was still put out, so he threw a bit of a tantrum, knocking over furniture and smashing dishes, before retreating back to bed with a cool cloth on his forehead for the rest of the day: he had a terrible headache.

The next day the same maid brought the king breakfast, gracefully weaving around the wreckage from the day before, lips resolutely pressed together. The king forgot his rage instantly at the sight of her, she was so beautiful. He leapt out of bed, falling to his knees before her, almost causing the girl to drop the breakfast tray on his head.

“Please, beautiful maiden,” he began, dodging a wayward piece of toast as it sailed past his head to land (splat!) face down on the floor. “Please won’t you speak to me? But one word from your lips would make me the happiest man in this kingdom. I cannot imagine a voice as sweet as yours would be.”

The girl paused, and a ghost of a smile passed over her perfect face. Her lips parted, and the king tensed in anticipation. But the maid only stuck her tongue out at King Thomas before turning and leaving the room. The king raged and howled before once again retreating to his bed chamber for the rest of the day.

And so it went. Every morning the servant girl would enter the king’s quarters, her beauty lighting up the rooms in a way the summer sun could not. And each morning the king would try to get her to speak to him. He would cajole, compliment, command, threaten, or bribe, but nothing he did would make the young woman reply. Each morning she rejected him, and the king’s fury and lament could be heard throughout the palace.

Finally the king could stand it no longer. He would have the young woman whether she spoke to him or not! And if even his legendary lovemaking would not cause her to make a sound, he would have her executed. She would obviously not be worth his while. With this new plan in mind the king sat down on his cushioned throne and rang the bell for his butler, who was new at his job, and terrified that he would sentenced to the same fate as the last.

“Have the servant girl bring me some tea,” King Thomas commanded. His head did still hurt rather a lot, a dull, steady pound that no spell or herb could heal. Perhaps some tea would help. He adjusted his heavy gold crown on his golden curls and waited expectantly.

He only had a few minutes to wait. In came the maid, stunning as usual, and carrying a tray with a teapot and teacup all laid out for him. King Thomas found himself on his feet, drawn into action by his love for her. The girl seemed to notice something different in the way he was staring at her. She put the tea things down on the table near the throne, and then drew the tray up in front of her chest as if to use it as a shield between her and the king. Her rose petal lips drew into a determined line.

King Thomas moved towards her, closing in until he could place his royal hands on her shoulders. Her breath, felt in the rise of her chest, quickened at his touch. Now was his chance. He touched her chin, lifting her eyes until they met his, blue staring defiantly into green.

“Please, my lady,” he whispered. “If I cannot have your words grant me a kiss, so that I might tell of my love for you in a very silent manner.” At the word ‘kiss’ King Thomas felt the girl flinch. Her eyes narrowed, and her fingers on the tea tray tightened.

But King Thomas was not taking no for an answer. Before the maiden could respond he kissed her, pushing her towards the wall, yanking her tea tray shield away from her as he did so. No cry for help escaped her, however, even when the king forced his hand down the front of her bodice, trying to rip it open like in one of the steamy novels he had read in school while supposed to be studying strategy and warfare. He pulled his head back for another look into the maid’s azure eyes. There was nothing but contempt and a little revulsion mirrored in their sapphire depths. He went in for another kiss, but a man’s voice stopped him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Your Majesty.” The king recoiled, confused. His head was pounding. He couldn’t believe his eyes or ears. The voice was obviously a young man’s, with a definite husk, bringing to mind a defined jaw line, intense eyes, maybe some sort of stubble. It was inconceivable that such a sound had come from the ruby lips of the maiden before him!

The girl pushed herself off the wall, taking advantage of King Thomas’ confusion. She fixed her dark hair and rebuttoned her bodice. Looking straight into his eyes the young woman smiled wickedly. She opened her lips again and said, with the voice of a man, “Don’t worry, it would never have worked out between us.”

King Thomas couldn’t take it. His head hurt so much, with so many conflicting thoughts chasing themselves in his skull. He became so overwhelmed that his head simply exploded, splattering the throne room with royal brain matter. The young woman was left all alone, a wry smile still on her face, staring at the wreckage of her former liege.

Suddenly there was an enormous puff of smoke, which cleared to reveal a very flustered older woman in a navy blue dress and sensible shoes. She looked like someone’s frazzled old aunt until you noticed the large fairy wings erupting from her shoulders. She glared.

“Fairy godmother,” the young woman grinned, not at all perturbed by the man’s voice sounding from her larynx, “How nice of you to drop by.”

The fairy godmother fumed. “What have you done, Nathan? You were supposed to get rid of the usurping king, but I did not mean for you to do so in such a dramatic manner!”

“If you hadn’t been late,” she (he?) grumbled, “I wouldn’t have gone ahead on my own. I couldn’t help him being in love with me!”

The fairy sighed. “I’m sorry,” she conceded. “I got held up in the Eastern Kingdom. Something about a sorcerer, all the royal heirs dead, a ridiculous story about a blood-sucking bottle. Rubbish.”

The young man (woman?) named Nathan shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that I can finally reclaim the throne Thomas stole from my father.”

“I suppose,” grumbled the woman, who was a very overworked and much underappreciated fairy godmother. She waved her wand, turning Prince Nathan’s body back into that of a man’s again. The palace servants, running into the throne room, arrived just in time to see a young man, the spitting image of the king who had ruled before Thomas had upset things, placing the traditional crown onto his head. It was a little bloody and bent out of shape, but no one said a word.

The first thing King Nathan did was to lift the decree of silence upon the kingdom, and all of Thomas’ other ridiculous royal laws, some of which had been created only to satisfy a passing fancy, such as one which involved the prohibition of eating honey of Sundays. The next thing he did was marry Clara, a beautiful member of the royal court whom he had met while in disguise as a woman, and who is neither pivotal nor relevant to this story. The music at their wedding was beautiful, and the silent kingdom became quickly one of the happiest and outspoken Kingdoms in all of history.

All of this was broken, however, many months later. Clara, sick of being irrelevant in so many ways, and nursing a jealous grudge against her husband for stealing King Thomas’ love from her when he was temporarily bereft of a Y chromosome, killed them both in a messy murder-suicide involving several carving knives and the pump from the filter in the palace fountain. But this was best – she had made a terrible Queen anyways.

FIN

Description
THE SILENT KINGDOM
A Fairy Tale

Once upon a time there was a king who though fairly young was grumpy and irritable. He had tricked the kingdom out of its rightful heir many years ago, and since then had been somewhat insecure about his hold on his subjects. Because of this he was very particular about seeing his orders followed out exactly.

The king, whose name was Thomas, had the terrible misfortune of being cursed with tear-wrenching, mind-numbing migraine headaches; once he got one all the king could do was lie down in his dark chambers and adamantly wish for silence.

Today was one of those mornings. King Thomas was lying in bed with a cool cloth on his royal forehead when his butler entered, cheerfully whistling and clattering the breakfast dishes, not realizing his horrible mistake. The king’s eye twitched. He sat up in bed. Infuriated and tormented the king then decreed total silence in the palace until he next wished it. The butler was executed at midday by silent suffocation.

Somewhat relieved, King Thomas retreated to the comfort of his darkened throne room, hoping for an afternoon nap. The pain in his head lessening to a steady throb, the king drifted off to sleep in his deeply cushioned throne.

All was well until three o’clock, the time when the school in town was let out for the day. The great bell in the town’s clock started tolling, and the children ran joyously out into the busy streets, screaming and playing, causing shouts from the street vendors they disturbed, and nervous whinnies from the horses they startled. A particularly enthusiastic screech echoed through the silent palace rooms, finding its way into the troubled head of the king, who woke with a start, in pain and furious.

King Thomas’ next royal decree was to declare silence on the entire town where he resided, with any child who made a noise having his or her tongue cut out. Somewhat subdued, the town settled in for the night, and so did the king, tucking himself into his giant bed and telling himself that his headache was bound to be gone by morning. He opened his window on the silent town with a sigh before turning over and closing his eyes . . .

Across the river, in the town opposite the palace, a wild celebration was taking place. The howls and hollers, the music and laughter, were all enough to wake the dead, and they certainly woke the king. His eyes widened as the ruckus invaded his tortured skull. He whimpered. He crawled out of bed.

He dragged his officials out of their sleeping quarters and demanded that the entire kingdom be silenced.

And so it was. From that day forward not a bird sang nor a footstep rattled without the king expressly commanding it. His subjects adjusted: slippered footwear became all the rage, and life went on as normally as possible, though all the musicians and singers in the kingdom quietly emigrated, having suddenly found themselves unemployed.

The king was content. He ate good food, he slept. He thought up more beneficial royal decrees. He fired his servants. Life was good.

One morning a new servant girl brought the king his cereal, on new cushioned ceramic dishes that did not make a sound when carried. The king, however, had less attention to spend on the dishes than on the young woman before him. She was beautiful.

He noticed her long, ebony hair as it trailed out of the knot on the back of her head. He noticed her white fingers as she balanced the tray. He noticed her deep blue eyes, carefully trained on the floor. Finally, he noticed her pale throat, long and perfect above the collar of her palace uniform. Oh, what sound might come from that throat! What songs, what poetry! The king was immediately in love.

“Please, maiden,” he chanced, catching hold of her wrist as she set down her burden. “What is your name?”

The young woman’s cobalt eyes darted upward, apparently horrified by the question. Everyone knew the punishments in place for those who spoke aloud. And though the king talked in great length, both to his court followers and to himself, he had never gone so far as to invite someone to converse with him!

The servant girl’s lower lip trembled, emphasizing the perfection of her mouth (what words!). She slowly shook her head, and, after gently freeing herself from King Thomas’ grasp, strode quickly out of the room.

The king sat, still in bed, stunned. He was very much in love, but soon he also began to feel angry – how dare she ignore him and shame him like that! Well, no one else would find out about it, that’s for sure. If she so much as whispered he would have her tongue cut out and fried, so that he could taste it without remorse.

The king was still put out, so he threw a bit of a tantrum, knocking over furniture and smashing dishes, before retreating back to bed with a cool cloth on his forehead for the rest of the day: he had a terrible headache.

The next day the same maid brought the king breakfast, gracefully weaving around the wreckage from the day before, lips resolutely pressed together. The king forgot his rage instantly at the sight of her, she was so beautiful. He leapt out of bed, falling to his knees before her, almost causing the girl to drop the breakfast tray on his head.

“Please, beautiful maiden,” he began, dodging a wayward piece of toast as it sailed past his head to land (splat!) face down on the floor. “Please won’t you speak to me? But one word from your lips would make me the happiest man in this kingdom. I cannot imagine a voice as sweet as yours would be.”

The girl paused, and a ghost of a smile passed over her perfect face. Her lips parted, and the king tensed in anticipation. But the maid only stuck her tongue out at King Thomas before turning and leaving the room. The king raged and howled before once again retreating to his bed chamber for the rest of the day.

And so it went. Every morning the servant girl would enter the king’s quarters, her beauty lighting up the rooms in a way the summer sun could not. And each morning the king would try to get her to speak to him. He would cajole, compliment, command, threaten, or bribe, but nothing he did would make the young woman reply. Each morning she rejected him, and the king’s fury and lament could be heard throughout the palace.

Finally the king could stand it no longer. He would have the young woman whether she spoke to him or not! And if even his legendary lovemaking would not cause her to make a sound, he would have her executed. She would obviously not be worth his while. With this new plan in mind the king sat down on his cushioned throne and rang the bell for his butler, who was new at his job, and terrified that he would sentenced to the same fate as the last.

“Have the servant girl bring me some tea,” King Thomas commanded. His head did still hurt rather a lot, a dull, steady pound that no spell or herb could heal. Perhaps some tea would help. He adjusted his heavy gold crown on his golden curls and waited expectantly.

He only had a few minutes to wait. In came the maid, stunning as usual, and carrying a tray with a teapot and teacup all laid out for him. King Thomas found himself on his feet, drawn into action by his love for her. The girl seemed to notice something different in the way he was staring at her. She put the tea things down on the table near the throne, and then drew the tray up in front of her chest as if to use it as a shield between her and the king. Her rose petal lips drew into a determined line.

King Thomas moved towards her, closing in until he could place his royal hands on her shoulders. Her breath, felt in the rise of her chest, quickened at his touch. Now was his chance. He touched her chin, lifting her eyes until they met his, blue staring defiantly into green.

“Please, my lady,” he whispered. “If I cannot have your words grant me a kiss, so that I might tell of my love for you in a very silent manner.” At the word ‘kiss’ King Thomas felt the girl flinch. Her eyes narrowed, and her fingers on the tea tray tightened.

But King Thomas was not taking no for an answer. Before the maiden could respond he kissed her, pushing her towards the wall, yanking her tea tray shield away from her as he did so. No cry for help escaped her, however, even when the king forced his hand down the front of her bodice, trying to rip it open like in one of the steamy novels he had read in school while supposed to be studying strategy and warfare. He pulled his head back for another look into the maid’s azure eyes. There was nothing but contempt and a little revulsion mirrored in their sapphire depths. He went in for another kiss, but a man’s voice stopped him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Your Majesty.” The king recoiled, confused. His head was pounding. He couldn’t believe his eyes or ears. The voice was obviously a young man’s, with a definite husk, bringing to mind a defined jaw line, intense eyes, maybe some sort of stubble. It was inconceivable that such a sound had come from the ruby lips of the maiden before him!

The girl pushed herself off the wall, taking advantage of King Thomas’ confusion. She fixed her dark hair and rebuttoned her bodice. Looking straight into his eyes the young woman smiled wickedly. She opened her lips again and said, with the voice of a man, “Don’t worry, it would never have worked out between us.”

King Thomas couldn’t take it. His head hurt so much, with so many conflicting thoughts chasing themselves in his skull. He became so overwhelmed that his head simply exploded, splattering the throne room with royal brain matter. The young woman was left all alone, a wry smile still on her face, staring at the wreckage of her former liege.

Suddenly there was an enormous puff of smoke, which cleared to reveal a very flustered older woman in a navy blue dress and sensible shoes. She looked like someone’s frazzled old aunt until you noticed the large fairy wings erupting from her shoulders. She glared.

“Fairy godmother,” the young woman grinned, not at all perturbed by the man’s voice sounding from her larynx, “How nice of you to drop by.”

The fairy godmother fumed. “What have you done, Nathan? You were supposed to get rid of the usurping king, but I did not mean for you to do so in such a dramatic manner!”

“If you hadn’t been late,” she (he?) grumbled, “I wouldn’t have gone ahead on my own. I couldn’t help him being in love with me!”

The fairy sighed. “I’m sorry,” she conceded. “I got held up in the Eastern Kingdom. Something about a sorcerer, all the royal heirs dead, a ridiculous story about a blood-sucking bottle. Rubbish.”

The young man (woman?) named Nathan shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that I can finally reclaim the throne Thomas stole from my father.”

“I suppose,” grumbled the woman, who was a very overworked and much underappreciated fairy godmother. She waved her wand, turning Prince Nathan’s body back into that of a man’s again. The palace servants, running into the throne room, arrived just in time to see a young man, the spitting image of the king who had ruled before Thomas had upset things, placing the traditional crown onto his head. It was a little bloody and bent out of shape, but no one said a word.

The first thing King Nathan did was to lift the decree of silence upon the kingdom, and all of Thomas’ other ridiculous royal laws, some of which had been created only to satisfy a passing fancy, such as one which involved the prohibition of eating honey of Sundays. The next thing he did was marry Clara, a beautiful member of the royal court whom he had met while in disguise as a woman, and who is neither pivotal nor relevant to this story. The music at their wedding was beautiful, and the silent kingdom became quickly one of the happiest and outspoken Kingdoms in all of history.

All of this was broken, however, many months later. Clara, sick of being irrelevant in so many ways, and nursing a jealous grudge against her husband for stealing King Thomas’ love from her when he was temporarily bereft of a Y chromosome, killed them both in a messy murder-suicide involving several carving knives and the pump from the filter in the palace fountain. But this was best – she had made a terrible Queen anyways.

FIN