The Bitter King
I wish I could tell you that the people in my kingdom were a happy group, but that would mean I am a good king. The idea made me laugh and tremble at the same time. All these years and these insects never showed me any respect, but the crown was another story. They worshiped the crown like ants swarming a morsel of food.
Bitterness was my only comfort, and she and I were old lovers. Everything good I ever tried to have in my life crumbled away from me into dust and ash. Even now, I looked down upon an army besieging my kingdom and felt no real emotion over it.
No! I screamed silently to the voice in my head, whispering to me. I could not always ignore it. It wanted to conquer, but I refused and realized this castle and its people deserved to burn, because there was not an ounce of goodness left here. Soldiers looked to me for direction, and it was at that moment I decided with the last bit of free will I had that it is over.
Smiling at their adoring faces, I leaped over the battlements and plummeted to my death. My cursed life, my cursed kingdom, and my cursed people could burn in hell because freedom was mine. Not even the impact on the ground that turned my body into a pile of goo could take that away from me. If I had air in my lungs, I would have laughed as I watched my crown tumble off and rolled down the hill towards the attackers that were gawking at me.
They all looked at me like they could not comprehend what had just happened, at least until the Crown of Tyrants bumped into massive soldier's boot. He reached down and grabbed the crown, and in his hands, it looked almost like a toy. In his eyes, I saw the greed and the power already corrupting him, and I knew this story even before the crown settled on his head.
Without hesitation, the new king claimed his kingdom, and then turned his men around and struck down the raiding king, his old king, and that king's retinue. In one fell swoop, I managed to end a war and unite two of the worst kingdoms in the world. My country would follow the crown because they cared little for the man beneath it. I should know.
My bitterness knew no bounds. I was dead, my crown lost, and still I laid there waiting for my damnation, but it seems even hell has denied me. Crawling away from the battle, and away from the kingdom, I propped myself against a tree to watch it all burn.
Broken bones were clicking, and torn flesh ripping, but not of that caused me any pain. If my lungs had air, I would have screamed. Instead, I watched as the armored king rode down all those who opposed his rule. Even from here I could see his glowing eyes, the soul of the man oppressed, and his doom sealed the moment he touched the Crown of Tyrants.
"The Bitter King weeps?" A voice said beside me. The kindly looking old man reminded me of my grandpa, and his big brown eyes radiated sadness. "Oh right."
The old man's hand touched my broken shoulder, his hand glowing, and pain tore through me as my body knit back together. A gasp escaped me as my lungs sucked in air once more.
"Why?" I said with such apathy that even the old man seemed to lose his affable demeanor.
"You are the first to escape the crown's clutches. We have need of you because even the gods feel the power of its oppression. You have to destroy it, and if you succeed will grant your wish. We will show mercy and let you die in peace. Help us, because without you, war will take this world, and no man or god will be able to stop it then."
"Damn the gods! Where were they when the crown that I did not want was placed forcibly on my head? Or when my family was struck down by my god damned hands?"
"I was hoping this would go the easy way. However, until you help us, you will not be allowed to die. You will watch this world burn and burn until you agree to destroy the Crown of Tyrants. I will visit you every year on this date until you agree. Bitter King indeed."