“For the love of all that is good my Lion get dressed!” My queen reminded me.
I had always understood in essence why men, strong or otherwise were commonly considered for good or Ill, to desire “motherly” wives.
A motherly wife was simply one who would take proper care of the kids, security of progeny. The behavior little different than the more popular insurance against disaster at childbirth known as wide hips.
But then I had rather disliked motherly partners, they made me feel like I was trapped in childhood.
This queen of mine, with her angular face and slightly synthetic demeanor only made the emotion that was otherwise imperceptible ring in my ears like the siren of an ice cream truck.
I shrugged and asked only back. “Where can I find my attire O Dove of my heart?
She pantomimed shock at me,
“Oh you really did forget?!” She bounded up and guided me to what one might call a king sized wardrobe. “No worries! Today is a new leaf anyway, it is probably best you steel your heart”
Uh oh…
“Keep these bracers on my king! They give you the rough and ready look!”
The bracers were a sandy bright white, only slightly yellow. They were probably the least white thing in the entire wardrobe.
Was embarrassing to let your wife dress you up? Was she sabotaging me? I was helpless in this world. I only barely refused the cape remembering the death of a dear villain of mine. Disney’s Syndrome.
Perhaps this would be my only glimpse of agency today.
Nonsense, I was too headstrong and no doubt would find myself trouble.
I smiled and flirted with my queen as she clearly had an idea of what I should wear, which I suppose was convenient given the circumstances.
I hoped to myself to find I had married a women with large tracts of land.
In the literal sense, I’m not above gold digging and I always had a thing for real estate. Mom would be proud if she knew I married a real landowning queen, if she reallly was a landowner.
And if anyone was curious my queen did have wide fertile hips. Rather athletic to be honest.
And I was down the stairs while my dreadful wife still had to dress herself.
Breakfast was already served, people I did not know, important people no less. Gave me blessings and “O Lion” and “Thy Majesty.”
The odd duck and goose wandered the courtyards but my business was in the keep.
I tried to be polite but could only manage a little. I was hungry and distracted. I couldn’t help but feel I was in a game of thrones set.
I ate my bacon and eggs. I drank deep of the thickened oat and peach pudding.
Truly breakfast is eternal and unchanging. No doubt this meal was prehistoric in origin.
Then, pondering seconds my mind realized who was in the room with me.
Six white clad figures two who looked as if they were elderly nerds, two who looked as elderly but weather hardened men, and two fit creatures, fellow men of action, one part homeless, two parts animal, three parts professional. Their eyes slid over mine unflinchingly as I glanced at them.
Those were men to keep an eye on.
Where was my queen? And was I to be the youngest in the room?
Aside from the odd maid or servant. De Phoebe was nowhere to be seen.
“We await your only your Queen my liege.”
It was a sit down dinner at breakfast. I thought I had left work travel behind me. At least the food in this place was top quality.
I got seconds.
And in a blink my wife was standing right next to me.
I was unprepared for the magical girl reveal. It was a little off putting because I had been in bed with this women only hours ago.
She held a staff that defied reality, pure white and seemingly marble, the head tapered as a queen’s in chess.
In fact I had been seeing chess symbols all morning.
How old was she?
How old was I?
I felt no older than twenty five.
She appeared to be Gandalf the white, if he was in his mid twenties, married to me, and a beautiful women who watched anime.
Also as if he had a dye job. But then it was the dark ages, she probably didn’t have dye and was just an odd type of blonde. She also wouldn’t be watching anime would she?
Gandalf the white was a dye job, at least in live action.
I preferred him animated. I might prefer my wife animated to be completely honest.
“My Lion!” She sidled up to me and pressed something into my stomach
“You forgot your ring! I wouldn’t want you forming a pride without me!”
This woman planned this. The diabolical little minx.
“So I did darling!” Returning my plate of food to the royal table I slipped my ring on and held her hand gently feeling the ring on her hand. “You said today was special.”
It would be my luck to get divorced on my first day as king consort for missing an anniversary or something.
“Indeed!” She said. “As you all know today is the day we declare war!”
She did not pull her hand away from mine as she conjured the chessboard from our room. It gently alighted upon the wide breakfast table.
In the natural light of the morning that filtered in through stained glass windows I had not previously noticed I could see all the pieces arrayed for battle. In their starting positions.
The source of my queen’s dominant and robust nature was revealed.
The backline of white was in the room with me.
I was the king, at my hand was my queen.
Then my two bishops, the two elderly robed nerds. Suspiciously irreverent and clandestine.
My two knights, looking like they had just killed a rhinoceros, ate it and slept in a dumpster.
My two rooks, both prim and proper, but too old to fight themselves they probably had castles. No doubt of diorite brick to spurn the granite and jet of my enemy.
I supposed my pawns wouldn’t know the details of the war.
“The Lion of White must defeat his brother, Panther of Black!” One of the bishops confirmed.
“What does the peace deal look like right now?”
The breakfast court turned to me in a dim stupor.
“You can’t undeclare war, I want to know how bad the damage is if we do.”
“We aren’t backing down” a rook replied.
“But in a worst case scenario we do.”
“Forgive my lion” the queen said, “his great heart has been having rightly troubled dreams regarding the costs of war.“
I admit, I was a little concerned that my council may have thought I was a coward. For long ago I had read by a wise and misunderstood man, according to him the king’s first, and only duty was to be lovable.
Indeed, I had seen it in my old life.
A king could commit every crime, and show every weakness but if he remained lovable then he remained undefeatable.
I rationalize that any blunt honesty, or good humor in my actions and words would carry me further than any army these old men, or a strong woman could conjure. For to be invincible was to be well loved, to be well loved was to be the bane of any assassin, or plotters or enemies.
It was not normally what people meant when they said Machiavellian. But that sour old lemon had, according to the history, learned a begrudging respect for nobility.
I was a fool to trust him?
“I’m not leaving this room until I understand that we all have a complete picture of this farce we call war. And neither are you.”
I had a sword at my belt and I considered drawing it.
No, I would need practice before I started gutting my advisers.
They probably deserved it.
Would my queen do anything if I did? Would anyone?
Only time would tell.