Angry Fits and Doors Unhinged

---------- 𝑀𝒶𝓇𝒸𝓊𝓈 ----------

----- 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖂𝖔𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖒 -----

Shuffling, panic, murmur: these could all be heard haunting the halls of the great castle. Everyone was in a mode that could only be classified as; uneasy. This unease had every right to have taken shelter within those grand walls, within the very essence of all its workers, guards and staff. Because behind those tall, polished stone walls; behind the old wooden drawn bridge; behind the banners hung in all the halls; behind every corner and tunnel in the castle; inside of the great assembly hall; a tantrum could have been witnessed...and a lot of things were being thrown.

Crash! Such as that antique vase.

"YOUR MAJESTY!" called out one of the men, who were unfortunate enough to be inside the same room as the person carrying out said tantrum," Is this the kind of royal behaviour that your father would have expected?!"

"Oh, shut up Henri, you old sack of fossils!" hissed the youngest there, the only one bearing a golden circle upon his head," My father is dead, and I am sick and tired of this bullshit excuse of a quest! Why is it not yet complete! Time is running out, my birth anniversary is too soon! AGGHH! I'M SO GOD DAMN SCREWED!"

Crash! And there went another priceless piece of history.

"Marcus, I want you to think very carefully right now," ushered the only maid present, with hair as grey as dry ash and years scrawled upon her skin," You are the king, yes, but you must think. You need order– "

"ORDER?" raged a fuming Marcus, his eyes darkened at what Merdareth had suggested. Merdareth recoiled into herself in fear as she saw Marcus tense up and continue his rambling, "How can I keep order when you can't even find me a wife? All of you! Iradith is bloody huge! You've looked everywhere, across all the land, presented me with all the ladies possible, and yet not a single one is suited to be a queen in my eyes!"

"Maybe you don't want a queen – "

"For fuck's sake Greg, I'm not gay just because I don't find any of those women suitable!" screamed Marcus, throwing a table into the air from where he was standing.

"Sire, I'm being serious! Iradith has had two kings before! The demand did not specify that it had to be a queen!" a knight quickly said, panic overthrowing his senses.

"Look Idgar, I appreciate what you're saying, however last I checked I'm still straight. Besides, the women of this kingdom need a female role model. It won't be fair if there are two kings present on the throne at this sad time."

Marcus stopped in that moment. As those words left his lips, it appeared that he had ceased his shouting. Henri, Merdareth, Idgar and the others looked at the young man with hopeful faces.

Silence. Was it finally over? They hoped it was, they already had a lot of cleaning and fixing to do after this whole ordeal was done.

Crash! Damn it, they thought too soon.

This had been going on for a whole two hours. Twenty knights, ten advisers, and one maid, all trying to negotiate with a raging king, throwing everything within a thirty-meter radius up into the air or into smithereens. No one was safe, the assembly hall's door had been barricaded from the outside until further notice (the further notice being: until silence could be heard inside the hall. Granted, this was a very ineffective method (everyone inside could very much be dead, the silence being an absence of life), however, it had worked so far for the people in Iradith's castle.)

Everyone outside of the site of action was rushing around the place as well. What were they supposed to do? Who knew! No one knew what to do when the King was having his routine anger outbreaks. Everyone just felt like they had to panic to sort of... sort of... well, no one really knew what the aim of their mass panic was. Maybe it was so that everyone could immediately tell when there was a possibility that the whole castle could be uprooted.

Had to stay alert, you know, especially when their world is riddled with uncertainties and dangers.

The Iradethian kingdom was often in a panic. Usually every Tuesday at twelve pm, when the weekly royal meeting was being held. Therefore, the Iradethian kingdom was used to being in a state of confusion. After all, anger had seemed to be a recurring trait in the lineage of kings that had ruled Iradith. Marcus' anger outbreaks, however, were the only anger outbreaks that didn't... quite make sense.

A quick history lesson for those wondering what I mean:

- King Luis, the last king, had suffered from depression. Anything that overstimulated his sense of reality caused him to act out, often ending in violence... and a lot of regrets. It was this very depression that caused him to become a heavy drinker, and eventually, led him to his early grave at forty-five. Alcohol poisoning is not a joke kids.

- King Andrew, the King before King Luis, suffered from alcoholism in its pure form. He simply liked the taste and couldn't get enough of it. It was this very love for being merry by artificial means, that formed a surprisingly strong bond with the last, last king of the Mountain Tribes, a place that specialised in the creating of wine and champagne. Granted, this alliance was already strong by history, however, if one were to inspect this relationship in greater depth, you would find a lot of things would not have been possible without Andrew's friendship with them. For example, Iradethian's can travel to the Mountains without a grant from the king, like usual. Instead, they can use this magical thing that king Andrew invented, called a 'passport'. I would explain it, however, since it was invented in Iradith, it is far too complicated to explain, so you'll just have to accept that there are some things you'll simply never understand.

Moving on, king Andrew's anger outbursts came about when he was sober. He hated the feeling of being normal so much that when he was, his bubbly personality fizzed away. The irony was, he died from natural causes. Some disease of some sort.

- Then there was King Jarkan, who also drank a lot. His wife had died after only a year as his queen, and he often had anger outbursts whenever something reminded him of her. A lot of things reminded him of her. There was a small myth that circulated in that time, that he had ordered a servant to be drowned because they wore the same colour dress as his wife when she died. Of course, this had been proven false by the Iradethian archives, however, people kept the myth alive.

- And then there was King Varditan, who also drank a lot. Why? No one bothered to remember. He reigned the shortest and the angriest, his anger causing him to fall off the tallest balcony when he was blinded by rage.

I could almost guarantee you that every king that had sat upon the Iradethian throne, had a drinking problem, that eventually led to severe anger issues. A curse, that Iradethian's, over time, simply grew to accept.

Why was it such a mystery? You may be wondering. It could very much have been genetics. A DNA base decided to skip one place. Perhaps an enzyme decided to be unique. Who knew? In Iradith, all biology (and natural laws in general) were just messed up like that.

However, the kings' mystery was not one of simple heritage. If it was so simple, the mystery would have not been so mysterious.

It was a mystery, because kings were crowned not by blood, but by battle. Even if the king had an heir, if they (the king) were deemed unfit to rule, either by a grand fuck up or simply by age, a tournament is held.

The prize: the throne.

So how every king had a drinking problem and anger issues really was something that baffled the citizens. No king was related, they even had the world's best doctors make sure that they weren't. No one that had ever sat on the Iradethian throne, had been related to the previous rulers. So what was causing the strange trait? No one knew, and no king had ever been different.

That was, except for Marcus.

Quick lesson in some Iradethian laws:

- You must be at least twenty-four to enter the said tournament.

- You also must be twenty-one to legally be allowed to drink.

Marcus did not qualify for either category. His father, who was king beforehand, had Marcus when he was twenty-nine. He died at forty-five, as mentioned before, meaning Marcus was only sixteen when the tournament was being held.

And he won.

Marcus.

Fair and square.

He applied under a stolen name, a hidden face, a fake age and with a little help from Hela (one of the maids organising the event)... and he won.

You must be twenty-four to enter, however, there was no previous law indicating an age minimum to being king. After all, you can't technically be king until the age of twenty-four.

However, Marcus argued strong. It was something assumed, however not written, therefore it could be allowed. There were many debates, believe me. Many for and many against the loophole. These debates had lasted all the way up until Marcus was eighteen. They settled with one condition that would have allowed Marcus to be the legitimate king of the land, once and for all.

Marcus was the youngest king in their known history. Marcus was the only king that did not drink and still was still impulsive on his emotions. Marcus was the only king that was required to have a partner, before becoming the legitimate king of the land.

And Marcus was not happy about that.

No King previously HAD to have a partner. It was a choice, a choice that he did not want to say yes to.

Don't get him wrong, he did find women attractive. He had to agree that there was something special about them. However, special or not, Marcus simply didn't get it.

He never understood the hype. Love. Such a stupid little thing. Marcus grew up being surrounded by examples of love and affection. He loved his mum, he loved his dad, lots of people loved him. However, growing up, he was the only kid that never had a crush. The only kid who never wanted a crush. Or any relationship, in fact, that was anything more than platonic.

Relationships. He just didn't want one. The sheer thought of them sent shivers down his spine and made the acid in the depths of his stomach boil.

He. Just. Didn't. Want. One.

Was that so hard to understand? Perhaps that was why he was always on edge. That thought, that he'd have to sacrifice himself to another through a forced marriage, just to get what he wanted.

What he needed.

It was a fair trade. One thing he wanted, for one thing, others wanted.

Fair.

A word he stood by. So why did the idea of marrying a person he did not know make him so sick? Why could he not get a hold of himself and settle this for the sake of securing a priceless thing? Why was this price such a sharp prick in his mind?

Nothing seemed worthy at that point. Even the broken relics and shattered glass that littered the floor. The battlefield that he created. The battle that it seemed no one could quench.

Now that he thought of it, it wasn't fair. It wouldn't be fair on the poor, misfortunate soul that would be his queen. He would only ever treat her like a friend, and nothing more. What if she wanted more? What if she spent the rest of her life having affairs and being disappointed, just because Marcus wasn't normal (in his own eyes)?

That didn't seem very fair.

Unfair on him and her.

Marcus could feel stomach acid rising in the back of his throat. He threw a chair in retaliation.

Then again, every single woman in Iradith drooled over him. He wasn't stupid. He knew he was attractive. Perhaps his face would be enough for her; the sheer sight of him satisfactory. His piercing purple eyes and fluffy black hair, his perfect skin and flawless complexion, his muscular body and (Okay this is a weird way to describe myself). Maybe just his appearance would be enough.

For her, perhaps. For him, however...

A beautiful lady wasn't what he was looking for. She could look like a walrus for all he cared.

When interviewing a potential candidate, he had settled for a simple criteria: if she has a defining personality, that didn't include her breasts or face, she would be my queen.

How unlucky Marcus was, that that seemed to be the case with every woman presented to him that was around his age.

(They didn't present Marcus with anyone under the age of 16, or above the age of 22. The royal court knew that he was already uncomfortable with the idea of marriage, so having the future queen be in a similar age range would maybe result in them having more to talk about, or at least, get along better.)

Bust, waist, and hips: that seemed to be the only thing that these girls had to offer. It was a shame, really. Such simple criteria, yet no one could satisfy it.

It was almost as if he was the only one who knew of those rules, and the girls only acted like that because they only had five minutes to sell themselves as much better than any other girl in Iradith.

...

Nah, it's definitely them.

In his defence, he wanted someone who was genuine!

If the girls knew, they would just pretend.

Of course they would, I would myself.

The issue was that not a single one had caught on! That very thought for Marcus, that no one had figured out that he wants personality, was terrifying. It actually stimulated him to have a queen, a role model for women of Iradith, to show them that they could be themselves!

Yet, not a single person had thought outside the bubble of their body. It was that thought, that very thought, that enraged him. It was the words, those very words that came from Henri's mouth, "There are no more eligible bachelorettes in Iradith for you, your highness." that sent Marcus into a fit of rage, a fit of rage that had been going on for two whole hours.

The doors to the hall suddenly clicked open. The lock had been taken away. Pulled back into reality, Marcus paused his tantrum to look at what had opened the great doors, surprised. After all, it wasn't quite yet. At least, before then it wasn't.

Painfully slowly, they creaked open, and everyone was silent from confusion. All eyes were glued to them, like starving lions eyeing down a prey.

Who was brave enough to enter the lion's den?