The King Is Dead

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

Queen Margie attempts to murder her husband.


The King Is Dead

By Joseph Logsdon

Unknown to Alexander, his wife was planning to murder him. Being the most powerful man in the world, people were constantly trying to kill him. He trusted no one, no one except his dutiful wife. She couldn’t harm a fly, or so he thought. With all her heart, Margie despised the old man, loathed him with an evil passion. He was everything she hated, and everything she didn’t want. He had no family, no one to take his place on the throne. Fully aware of the dangers, Margie decided to take the life of the old man.

She stood behind the curtain, the knife in her hand. He was sleeping on the bed, making it all the more easy. She stared at him, contempt in her eyes. The guards were outside the door, ignorant of what was going to happen. More than a weapon, the knife was her key to freedom. It was so very easy, and at the same time, so very hard. Just one mistake, and everything would come crashing down.

Henry grabbed her shoulder, squeezing it tightly. He was the best warrior in all the land, among many other things. He kissed her, aggressively digging his soul into her voluptuous body. She rubbed his back, moaning in the process. He covered her mouth, worried that they would be heard. For the longest time, the curtains had been their only shield from the world. Without that shield, their sins would be put on display, for all to see and judge. Their kisses were like daggers, aggressive and deadly. They were filled with rage, anger, and violent passion.

“It’s time, time to finally get what we want,” she hissed, her fingers grinding into his back.

“Just so we’re clear, what exactly do we want? I mean, with Alexander gone, what’s to stop you from blaming me for everything?”

“I’ve told you a thousand times, there’s nothing to worry about. He’s an old man, should’ve died years ago. The people are tired of him, you’re tired of him, and I’m tired of him. They’ll blame someone else, most likely some pathetic peasant. You’ll get everything you want, I’ll see to that,” she hissed.

“You don’t know what I want, you probably never will,” he whispered.

“Educate me, I’m very interested,” she laughed.

“You will marry me, no questions asked. If you refuse to play along, I’ll tell everyone what you really are. Do we have a deal, or don’t we?”

“I’m Queen, I don’t take orders from anyone. Who do you think you are, ordering me around? Destroy me, you ultimately destroy yourself. I’m the one in control, and don’t you forget it,” she hissed.

“Alexander was right, you are very nasty. As bad as he is, you would probably be much worse. You could have the entire world, it still wouldn’t be enough,” Henry stated.

Margie started to cry, deliberately trying to evoke sympathy. Henry kissed her cheek, in an attempt to calm her down. She leaned her head against him, almost like she was some lost child. She looked into his eyes, convinced that she had won not only his sympathy, but his love as well.

“Be honest, do you hate me?”

“I hate and love you, is that so strange?”

“Take the knife, fulfill your destiny. It can be so easy, you need only have the strength,” she encouraged.

“Why did I ever get involved with you?”

“Because, unlike most women, who spend their lives cooking and cleaning, I can actually carry a sword. What I lack in strength, I can make up for in will, drive, and most of all, ambition,” she hissed.

“Why did you get involved with me?”

“You were there at the right place, at the right time,” she laughed.

“You don’t love me, you love what I can do for you,” he grunted.

“Just wait, I can do plenty of things for you, but only after he’s dead,” Margie exclaimed, handing him the knife.

Henry removed the curtain, eager to get it over with. Alexander tossed and turned, obviously having some kind of nightmare. He approached the bed, exhausted and out of breath. Alexander was a good man, and an even better friend. Why, after all those years, was he going to betray his friend? He was doing it for a selfish, greedy woman. Knowing perfectly well that she didn’t care about him, Henry pressed on, resigned to his tragic fate.

Henry raised the knife, hesitating for a brief moment, before plunging it into the heart of his friend. There was a slight groan, followed by an eternal silence. The deed was done, or so it appeared. Margie kissed him on the cheek, relishing their triumphant moment.

“The King is dead,” Henry stated, regret in his voice.

“Poor baby, does the dead corpse scare you?”

Henry gazed at the body, completely ignoring what had been said to him. At first glance, the body looked like Alexander, but if examined closely, it wasn’t Alexander. Henry screamed, paralyzed with fear.

“For God’s sake, what’s gotten into you?”

“It’s not him,” he screamed.

“What do you mean, it’s not him?”

“He tricked us,” Henry gasped.

“Why, that’s absurd,” Margie laughed.

Margie looked at the body, examining it closely. Just like Henry, she came to the same conclusion. Guards entered the chamber, all of them carrying weapons. Surrounded and out of luck, Henry and Margie huddled together, tears in their eyes. Alexander stood in the doorway, laughing.

“Honestly, did you really think you could fool me? Margie, from the moment I met you, I knew you were going to betray me. Luckily for me, I’ve been sleeping in a different room for months, certain that you were going to try something. I waited and waited, almost giving up, until I realized how much you loved Henry. You betrayed me, just so you could be with him?”

“I didn’t do what I did for love, I did it for power. Henry was just a tool, someone I could use to get what I wanted,” she hissed.

“Well, in that case, I’m sentencing you to death,” he laughed.

“I’m your wife, you can’t do that,” she screamed.

“You were my wife,” he laughed.

The End




Submitted: July 28, 2015

© Copyright 2022 JL reaper. All rights reserved.

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