13

XERXES

I walk down the aisles, my footsteps ringing heavily around me. There are pictures of my ancestors everywhere, looking down on me and downright mocking me for not being able to get our country's predicament under control. But that's not true. I'm the first not to try it through the easiest way. Everyone is telling me that war can no longer be avoided. You all have no idea what I'm capable of. What Platura is capable of.

"Xerxes, now don't run away again." Magda. By God, I've never realized how annoying this woman can be. Ever since Kalota was here, she's been attached to me and wants me to end it. I would have it then I would have listened to Magda, like I always have. After all, I owe it to her. She caught me when it was necessary.

In my early teens I was someone else than I am now. I have raged. I used everyone around me to my liking and vented my unbridled anger on others. I committed my first rape when I was thirteen. My first murder six months later. The beast had a hold of me and I was furious. I only knew this feeling. Only, the blazing flames that determined my every action. And no one stood in my way.

The only one who could show me limits was my father. After all, I was the prince. And who would dare to mess with the future ruler of the country? No one. That is the job of the parents. My mother was no longer alive at that time. And my father fueled the aggression. He saw his image in me. A man who didn't care about losses. Who crushed everything that stood in his way. But since even a king needs followers, there were rules for me too. More precisely one. Never murder a rich man. I was free to do everything else. And I took advantage of that.

But Magda realized that there is another side to me. That I don't have to be angry all the time. That grace carries power. She showed me with a gentle hand that no one is all good or bad. That everyone has a choice. She formed me. With care and the tenderness that was needed for it. She put up with my constant setbacks and attacks. I am grateful to her for that. Every single day. But at some point, paying off the debt is enough. And above all, the thought creeps up on me that she didn't take care of me back then to save me, but herself.

"Xerxes!" The word screeches through the hallway, and I exhale heavily, but remain standing. There's no use dodging her. God, I've tried.

"Very well, if you still have the guts to look at me now, that would be wonderful." Just the tone of command in her voice makes it difficult for me to breathe out. How could I have missed her being so bossy all these years? I turn to her anyway But unlike usual, there is no warmth in my features, only distance.

“What should I look at you for, Magda? To listen to the same bullshit as the last few times?" Yes, she argued. Again and again. In the beginning it was about her reputation. What people would think. When she realized that she had a hard time with that, she gave it a try her love for me. But that also went unnoticed. And now it's anger that drives her on.

"I want your word that you'll never see her again." Ah, this time there's not even a nice paraphrase of the request. If it can be called a request. It sounds more like an order. But again, that doesn't help me. Not like before. So I just shake my head. "No."

That's the end of the conversation for me. I don't feel like dealing with Magda anymore. There are so many more important things. The army commander is waiting in my study and probably wants to persuade me again that I should finally issue the declaration of war. A conceited man who is looking for his equal.

"It's not over yet," Magda calls after me and I groan in annoyance. Of course not. How could she comply? But that only encourages Magda to make a detour to the kitchen. I have one more thing to do , before I meet the general.

I need to relieve pressure. And not with Magda. It's almost amusing that she keeps scolding me about Kalota, only to then willingly spread her legs for me. In fact, I made fun of it. She can't refuse me sex if she doesn't want me to see my prostitute anymore. She's cornered herself into letting me have it whenever I want it. A burden a king's wife must bear if she expects anything like fidelity. But sex with her doesn't fulfill me. It's just plain boring. Still, I used her for sex more often than we've ever had in our relationship. Mostly when she's hit a hundred and eighty. The fight in her eyes always made me smile.

Still, it's not comparable to Kalota. Not even remotely. I don't know what triggers it in me. But whatever it is, just the thought of her makes the blood rush to my groin. My member presses uncomfortably against the pants and I take a deep breath. Two more days then I'll have Kalota with me again. Can use them as I please and have them under me in all positions. Two damn long days. But I have to be careful with her. Even I am aware of that. Last time I saw all the sadness in her eyes. The vulnerability that lies deep within her. A fact that freaks out my beast every time. It wants to put that expression back on her face.

Yes, I still want to cause pain in Kalota. I want to pull her into my darkness. Nothing changed about that. But she should recognize that blackness can also be beautiful. I learned that from her. By the intoxicating image conjured up by her bloodied body. That she still had a fire in her eyes, which some women don't even have when they have an orgasm. She has taken me. She calmed my beast by the look she gave me across the mirror. Allowing a calm to come into me that I haven't felt since my early teens. Suddenly the darkness was no longer oppressive. No more paralyzing. I took care of her and saw the beauty of blackness. That it is not always necessary to have light around you in order to see.

And while a determined smile forms on my lips, I throw open the door to the kitchen. Immediately all the servants stop and look at me. It's rare that I show up here. In fact, it has only happened three times so far. But I ignore her wide-eyed eyes. I just don't care what they think right now. Let them tear their mouths apart.

"Get out," I bark, not even trying to be friendly. But I don't need to. They're all society scum. Worth nothing. I could strangle them or have them flogged in the market square, nobody would hurt say. No one would even question what I did. But Kalota is also part of the lower society. One of the people who don't even look at when they die on the street. And so she shifted my image a bit in that regard as well.

But most of them still stand in their places and look at each other in confusion. Probably not sure if I'm serious. And so I just raise an eyebrow in disbelief and look around. "Did I not make myself clear?" The words only come out of my mouth in a growl. But it's not that that scares people, it's my eyes. Some say I carry the venom of a snake and will corrupt the land with that same venom. I find this comparison very appropriate. But it's not the fields that are poisoned, it's my soul. Every day it gets a little darker. But that's okay. It doesn't bother me anymore. And even if the people around me don't know what a battle I'm fighting, they see the danger in my eyes The bomb that could go off at any moment.

"Of course, Your Majesty," replies the cook, gesturing to the others with a quick wave of her hand to hurry. And finally the servants begin to put down their pots, pans, and groceries, and hurry out of the room. They all leave I run out. All but one. The kitchen maid. As she tries to slip past me, I grab her wrist and pull her towards me.

"Not you," I whisper to her and she nods slightly. But she keeps her eyes lowered. Of course. Humility is innate in a servant. But I know that it's just for show. She stretches out her ample breasts too much for that "I can't see much. Only a glimpse is revealed through the dress. But that's enough to make me grunt in satisfaction. It's not Kalota's breasts. I can tell the difference even by the grip on her arm. Kalota is skinny. Too skinny. It always makes me feel like I could break her with my fingers. And yet she can take so much.