Rain fell against the walls of the crude, stone castle. The village below smoked, villagers wandering, picking up toppled furniture, stifling the fires. Men on horses supervised, swords in hands, watching for further signs of resistance. Nobody dared. The true victor had been declared.
Inside the castle was a different story. Laugher, clinking of metal cups, music, dancing. My men had been drinking my victory for hours and hours, spitting at the prisoners that were shackled at my feet. I was tired, yet I was more than pleased to watch my hardworking men celebrate, being much more deserving of it than me. At my feet sat the children of the former King. Two daughters, and his stubborn son. His father's head already sat atop a spike outside on the bridge leading to the portcullis, the blood still dripping against the cobbles.
Raising my hand, my advisor, Burchard, excused himself from the festivities, arriving by my side in less than a moment. "Sire?" He asked, wiping the mead from his lips.
"Take them to the dungeons. I have no use for them," I said, gesturing to the women sitting below me. "Burchard, do you know this one's name?" I gestured to the young man sitting at my feet.
"Lothar, Sire."
"Have him washed and brought to my chamber." I said, Burchard nodded obediently. He whistled to the guards at the door, they left their posts, grabbing hold of the women, beginning to drag them away. The son called out for them, wrestling with his chains to no avail, the women screaming his name. Burchard whispered something to him, the son frowned angrily, barring his teeth, spit bubbles forming in the corner of his mouth. His sisters screams echoed in the halls still, as he himself was dragged from the room.
I took a sip from my chalice, water, swilling it around my mouth, slumping in my chair a little to watch over the party. The men had brought prostitutes, and obviously were drunk enough to play with them, their bare breasts man-handled, squeezed. They could keep them all to themselves, I wasn't particularly interested in women; of course, I knew that if I wanted an heir I had to entertain them, but for anything casual I preferred boys. I had had given myself the goal of having one in every place that I traveled to, but now as ruler of this new land, I was ready to settle for one. Of course, noble blood was preferable for a concubine, but casual affairs could be with whomever I felt.
It was getting late, and I was growing restless. I excused myself from the party, bade my men farewell for the night, listened to their drunken praises and promises, and made my way to my bedroom.
-----
He was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, wrapped in a sheep-skin blanket. His brown hair had curled, his skin tanned, hands tucked inside his blanket. He didn't bother to stand upon my entrance, he simply stared into the amber glow of the flickering fire.
"You would think, being formally royal yourself, that you would know to stand in the presence of your King." I said, closing the door behind me. Silence. "Look at me, when I am speaking to you." I said in a low tone, his head turned slowly to reveal a scowl.
"Former royal? I am royalty still. My father will return and reclaim his rightful throne." He spat.
