"Your Majesty, the sun has risen. I've brought you some fruit."

"What is on my agenda today?" Asked Edward as he wolfed down his sugar plums.

"The Bishop has requested an audience after morning mass and a serf from a nearby Fief

has asked to see you."

"Inform the Bishop I will not be joining morning mass and that he is to come to the castle

directly after the service. As for the peasant, why is his lord not handling it?"

"Lord Hugo was the one who asked that he be granted an audience."

"Weak bastard, send him in after the Bishop. Fetch the servants immediately and ask

them to bring my clothes"

"As you wish."

Edward sat up from bed and hummed to himself as his servants rushed in to dress and

bathe him as he requested. One of them nicked his face as they shaved him.

The room froze and Edward rose from the tub as he pressed his hand to his face, seeing

the blood spill down his palm, his eyes wide and his brow tight. The girl responsible trembled,

the razor still stained with royal blood.

Edward reached out his hand and took the razor from the young girl, her blonde locks

hitting the marble floor as she prostrated herself. The King picked up her chin, squeezing it with

his left hand and sliced her jaw with the razor in his right. The girl held back her tears, obeying

the King's rule that a servant is not to speak to her monarch unless spoken to and she exited the

room, her head down as Edward shooed her away and the servants resumed grooming him.

After he was done being dressed, the King went to his throne room where the bishop lay

waiting.

Upon his arrival, the bishop bowed his head.

"Your Highness, there is a delicate--"but Edward cut him off.

"Majesty."

"Excuse me?"

"The correct word is majesty, highness is a word for a prince or a non-monarchial

member of the Royal Family, which I am not."

"Pardon me Your Majesty. As I was saying, there is a delicate matter I have been asked to

discuss with you."

"Go on" said Edward curtly as he sat on his throne, eyeing his new bracelet and avoiding

the gaze of the bishop.

"It is of great concern to the Church that the King continuously remains absent from mass

and that His Majesty has made no effort, after his coronation, to have any contact with the church

whatsoever."

Edward picked up his gaze and stared directly into the heart of the old bishop, whose bald

head began sweating as the King rose from his throne. He picked up the old man by his collar

and threw him to the floor.

"I don't much care for mass. In the future, if anyone questions my loyalty to our lord and

savior Jesus Christ you will inform them that I attend mass daily and the Church and I

communicate on a regular basis, is that understood?"

"Yes Your Majesty" the bishop whimpered as he attempted to exit. The King signaled the

guards and they blocked the bishop's path to the door.

"Oh and Your Excellency" the bishop winced, "if I hear this rubbish again I will not be so

forgiving."

"Understood."

The guards sheathed their swords and allowed the bishop to exit and waved the peasant,

shivering outside in the winter morning, in.

The man, dressed in rags, bowed before the King and said, "Your Majesty, I have to come

to you to request your humble assistance. The people in my village are starving due to the low

crop yield this past summer. Lord Hugo has asked that I come to you to ask that you import food

from a more fortunate fief. We cannot survive like this."

“Have you any idea how this kingdom functions?” asked the King as he picked up a plum

with his left hand.

“Well I th—” Edward interrupted the peasant and rose from his throne, slowly

approaching him.

“In exchange for an army I, King, grant the nobility land, you, the serf, work that land

and receive a portion of it to feed your pitiful families. It is a cycle” Edward suggested as he

rolled the plum between his fingers. “If I take food from another Lord's fief and give it to you, I

break that delicate system we have worked so hard to build and” Edward crushed the plum, the

juice spilling on the head of the peasant, “it all collapses.”

The peasant rose, anointed in in his fruit bath, sprinkled with sugar and his head bent

toward the floor.

“But we will die” he whispered with teary eyes, the juice of the plum seeping down his

cheeks.

“And your sacrifice is noted.”

The King sent the peasant out into the brutal winter morning leaving a trail of plum juice

as Edward dipped his hands in warm water, wiping the sticky substance from his palms and

cleansing himself of this annoyance.

The King could not fall asleep that evening. He was tired, tired of his subjects, tired of his

new bride and tired of the aching loneliness that was the curse of bearing the crown.

“GUARDS!” the King roared.

His guards tumbled through the door, their eyes heavy with sleep, “Yes Your Majesty?”

“Send for the Earl of Cornwall, bring him to the palace at his earliest convenience.”

“For what purpose?”

Edward looked the guards straight in the eye and said through gritted teeth, “That is none

of your concern. Fetch him for me.”

“Right away sir.”

Satisfied, as his guards ran in terror from their King, Edward closed his eyes and drifted

into sleep, smiling as he clutched on to his bracelet.

The next morning began the same as the last, sugar plums for sustenance and grooming

and dressing done by the servants. However, this morning, the King requested an upgraded

wardrobe be brought and his servants complied with a red tunic and a golden crown with a ruby

in the center.

Delicate but commanding, Edward thought to himself as he stared into his looking glass.

“Your Majesty, the Earl has arrived” a servant alerted him.

The King made his way to the Great Hall where Piers waited for him. Edward was

captivated by his angelic face and sculpted features but pressed on, shifting distraction to the

side.

“Your Highness, to what do I owe the pleasure?” asked Piers as he bowed.

“Her Royal Highness, the Queen, was insulted by your lack of respect. She received no

wedding present.”

“A thousand apologies, I was not aware His Royal Highness cared so much.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you seemed, if I may be frank, disinterested with your own wedding.”

“Whatever the case, the Queen felt snubbed. My demeanor was irrelevant.”

“With all due respect Your Highness, I find it quite relevant as I know you did not call me

here on account of your wife. Beautiful bracelet by the way.” Edward blushed, covering the

bracelet with his tunic. The Earl moved closer.

“I thought it would be rude not to wear your gift to our meeting” Edward retorted,

looking away from an approaching Piers.

“And yet” Piers grabbed the King’s arm and exposed the bracelet, moving it further up

his wrist “you’ve worn it long enough to make a mark. In fact it looks like you even slept with

it” Piers asserted as he revealed the marks of wear on the King’s arm.

“Guards, leave us,” they bowed and left the room, leaving the Earl and the King alone.

“What are you suggesting Piers?” Edward said through gritted teeth, as his knees

trembled in weakness and his voice jumped an octave.

Piers put his large hands on Edward’s face, parting his hair to the side, exposing his deep

brown eyes and removing a stray eyelash from under his nose. Their eyes locked and bodies

froze, paralyzed like duelists waiting to see who would make the first move.

Piers grabbed the King’s waist and pushed even closer, locking lips with Edward,

blurring the line between King and lover. He stopped. Edward nearly tripped, his eyes open, his

heart beating faster and his body in an unknown sense of relief and ecstasy. Edward stepped

back, putting his finger to his empty lips, his eyes fixated on a smirking Piers.

Edward jumped into Piers muscular arms, bulging through his tunic sleeves, kissing him

with unparalleled passion as he carried Edward toward the King’s bedroom, getting directed

between kisses and shutting the door behind him as tunics were shed and the bed shook like an

earthquake.

A Cancelled Dinner

Edward awoke for the first time by a companion beside him whose peaceful smile and

muscular body brought back a flood of memories and the sound of approaching footsteps.

He jumped up from his bed, threw a nightgown on his naked body and covered the Earl

with blankets and ran to the door before his servants footsteps came too close, exiting the room

and startling the man in front of him.

“Your Majesty... you are up” he said between tightening eyelids.

“Yes. Cancel today’s schedule, we are staying in bed for the remainder of the day.”

“We? Your Majesty.”

“Yes, the royal we, as in myself” Edward bumbled quickly.

“I see. Her Royal Highness, the Queen was expecting a dinner with you later this

evening."

“Inform her that I will be unable to attend.”

“And what reason shall I give Her Royal Highness?”

“Fatigue” Edward said coldly reminding him of his secret treasure that lay in his bed

chamber and their previously sleepless evening.

“I shall notify the Queen.”

The servant walked off scratching his head as Edward waited for him to turn a corner out

of the line of sight. Once he did, he escaped back to his room, put his sword between the door

handles in an effort to lock it, shed his gown and climbed back into his warm bed. He removed

the blankets from his still sleeping lover and pressed against his body, his arms around Piers

chest, eyes closed and face locked in a perpetual smile.

For the next three months, by royal decree, the Earl of Cornwall was to live in the castle

in order to “advise the King” and the guards were forbidden to enter the King’s bedchamber

without permission. Piers rarely left the castle, joined Edward for dinners, royal functions and

was even given a chair beside the throne.

All the while, Queen Isabella became suspicious of her husband’s ever growing

friendship and grew tired of being cancelled on. The King refused to consummate their marriage

and the Queen became increasingly angry and desperate for the child her body yearned for.

The King continually abandoned her for the company of the Earl, refused to sleep in her

bedchamber under any circumstances and only talked to the Queen when absolutely necessary.

“How could you? You promised we would dine together tonight!”

“Isabella, I am quite tired of your constant whining. I have royal duties to attend to and I

am a King above all else. Do as your told and be silent!”

“I was not aware fraternizing with the Earl was a royal duty.”

“He is my confidant Isabella. What kind of wife is jealous of her husband’s friend?”

“What type of husband never lays with his wife?!”

“I have had quite enough of this. Guards, confine her to her bedchamber for the balance

of the day.”

“How dare you! I am Queen.”

“You are nothing” Edward hissed.

“What kind of marriage is this?!” Isabella asked in tears.

“One of necessity” said Edward as the guards dragged Isabella away, her crown

struggling to stay on her brow.

That evening, Isabella sobbed into her pillows, her hand on her empty belly as she called

for her servant Peter.

“Your Majesty?”

“I need a favor from you and the King cannot know.”

“Your Majesty you know I cannot withhold information from the King, he is my master

and is above even you.”

“Peter, I am sure we can make some sort of arrangement,” the Queen said as she

approached Peter, her golden curls flowing, plump lips curled into a smile and emerald eyes

locked on him.

She removed the glove from her right hand and massaged Peter’s thigh, shock spreading

across his face as his head rolled back and he shut the door behind them.

In the next few months the royals remained engaged in not one but two affairs and the

Queen fell pregnant with Peter's child.

The King knew it could not be his but rather than being offended, he was relieved as now

the Queen would stop begging him for a child and his life could separate from hers. Forever in

the grip of the one he loved most.

One afternoon, as Edward and Piers lay in a field filled of pyramidal orchids. Their petals

had begun to sprout with the approach of spring and lay on a white blanket, staring at a rare

cloudless sky.

“The baby is coming.”

“I know.”

“What are we to do Piers? Isabella’s patience is wearing thin and I suspect she knows of

our...connection.”

“I think the word His Royal Highness searches for is relationship.”

“That’s quite a strong word. Don’t you think?”

“Yes and it befits us” Piers replied, staring into Edward’s warm brown eyes and sharing a

deep kiss with him.

“I love you” Piers said.

“Piers...I...”

“I know we can do nothing and that we must remain secret but I still thought you should

know.”

“I love you too.”

“What?” Piers asked, his face turned toward Edward and eyebrows raised high.

“You heard me” Edward said, kissing Piers again.

They looked around and knowing they were alone, Edward and Piers laid together among

the orchids, the petals falling on their naked bodies as they made love under the endless english

sky.

Little did they know, that hidden in the high branches of a nearby Elm tree Peter watched

in horror as the King and Piers desecrated the royal gardens with sodomy and he anxiously went

to tell his Queen.

“Your Majesty!” Peter barged into the Queen’s bedchamber.

“Peter I am unavailable for our frivolous activities at the moment, I am organizing my

jewelry collection” she said as she separated each of her priceless jewels out by materials and

gems.

“Her Royal Highness misunderstands, I did not come here to lay with her, I came to

inform her. The King and the Earl are having an affair. They are committing sodomy within the

castle walls.”

“Summon the bishop, he must be made aware of this heinous crime.”

And so it was, Peter rode to the Church and asked the bishop to come to the castle while

the King was sent away to a nearby battle to command the troops, much to his reluctance.

“I will return Piers” the King assured him.

“I love you.”

“I love you more” Edward said as they shared one final kiss.

The old bishop, awaiting the King’s departure summoned the Earl to join him in the great

hall as Edward’s horse became one with the horizon.

“Piers Gaveston, the Church of England finds you guilty of sodomy and by divine decree

you are sentenced to execution.”

Piers fell on his knees, “Have mercy. I haven’t the foggiest idea what you are referring to

your excellency. Spare me. I have done no wrong.”

“You lie, Earl of Cornwall. Witnesses claim they saw you raping our King, bewitching

him with your sodomite sorcery.”

“I have done no such thing! The King will not stand for this, I am nobility and the King’s

closest friend. You would not dare order my execution.”

“No. But I would,” the Queen replied stepping out of the shadows in her silk scarlet gown

and a sparkling ruby crown.

“Isabella?”

“That is Her Royal Highness Queen Isabella to you sir. How dare you steal my husband

from me. You are an abomination against God and the British Monarchy you treasonous

imbecile! You are to be killed for your crimes.”

“He was never yours” Piers smiled “Edward only ever loved me.”

“Take him away!” Isabella roared.

Piers was burned at the stake the following morning for “crimes against the church” and

his charred remains were deposited in the river.

When the King returned and learned of Pier’s fate he mourned. Edward refused to leave

his bed, unable to eat or sleep and did not even attend the Queen’s birth of her bastard daughter,

Princess Emilia. With each tear, Edward's hate grew, knowing his jealous wife and the Church he

most despised were the root of his suffering.

One evening, as the castle slept, Edward crept out of bed and entered the nursery,

dismissing the guard from the door. He looked at the child for the first time, her slow and steady

breath filling the bassinet. Edward took his hands and strangled the child until she breathed no

more.

The next morning, wails erupted across the castle and the Queen ran into Edward’s

chambers.

“She’s dead! Our child is dead. Her neck has bruises. She was murdered Edward.”

“I am sorry for your loss” Edward replied curtly.

“What about you? She is your daughter to.”

“Do not lie to me, I know she was not mine. Besides, I can lose no more.”

The Queen thought deeply for a second. “You! How could you?” she sobbed, “She was

everything to me, the only thing that mattered, all that I loved in the world.”

“And so was he.”

Edward left the castle and rode to the church, condemning the Queen to dwell only on her

infant corpse, in whose blank expression she found only grief and her sobs .

“Your Majesty, this is quite a surprise” the bishop said as he bowed.

“Kneel.”

“What? Your Majesty.”

“I said KNEEL” Edward roared as he pushed him to the floor, his head at the King’s feet.

Edward unsheathed his sword, placing it on the bishop’s shoulder as if to dub him

nobility and swung at his throat, decapitating him.

Edward stared at his blood soaked sword, glistening in the morning sun and the Bishop’s

head on the floor, soaking in the ecstasy of revenge and imprinting the Bishop's dead eyes in his

memory.

“You are avenged my love. You are avenged.”

When the Church learned of Edward's transgressions and Isabella told her family, the

French nobility, of his murderous rampage he was forced to relinquish his crown. He fled to

Wales, taking refuge in Kenfig castle, with only a handful of handmaidens to keep him company.

Doomed to spend the reminder of his days as a King with no subjects, a royal with no family and

forever hoping that when he awoke, that Piers might be beside him.