Dead King by Marcus Whinney
Old King and Long Blade by Max Elmberg Sjöholm
The old and kind King of the Mushroom Grove had survived the years thanks to his adopted bodyguard who had been guarding him since she could wield a blade. Towering over the other citizens of the grove she had to carry a stool with her at all time for the King not be completely obscured by her. Through her various battles with usurpers she had accumulated a lot of scars, though none on her face, since no one could reach that high.
wearepaladin reblogged
A secret rendezvous in the castle halls! 8)
“I made you a knight, for you are strong and sure and loyal, and not a day goes by that I do not regret my choice,” the king said, voice low so as not to carry. His lover smelled of oiled leather and polished steel, the barest hint of linseed oil lingering in his beard.
“Say the word and I shall discard my sword, Sire,” the knight breathed, clutching the king’s forearm and tugging him closer, wanting just one more kiss before his journey began.
The king scoffed, nipped at his lower lip. “And deal with you sulking day and night, sitting in a tower window like a prince held captive? I miss you when you are gone, but that only makes your return sweeter, and I dare not clip my handsome robin’s wings.”
“Flattery to ensure my return?” The knight laughed, his chuckle sparkling down the corridor.
“Does it not work?” The king replied, grinning through their kiss.
“And will you romance me still when my good looks are withered and gone?”
“It is easier to ask me when I will die, because I shall never stop.” The king pulled back slightly, catching the knight’s chin and turning him to meet his gaze. “For as long as you live, I shall wait for your return. Even if my flattery falls short and you swear fealty to another, I will watch the horizon for the glint of your golden hair, the sparkle of your smile.”
“And should I fall?” The knight shook his head ruefully. “Even in death, my heart would break to think you alone and unhappy. Wait not for me, if such happens.”
The king smiled, pulling one of the two golden rings off his finger. He pressed it into the knight’s palm, then raised that closed hand and pressed his lips to his lover’s knuckles. “Once you leave the city’s walls, stop by the Weaver’s Hut and show her this ring. She’ll laugh, but she’ll know what must be done. Ah—!” The king pressed a finger to the knight’s lips. “No questions; no time. You’ll lose your daylight.”
“Are you binding me to you, you wonderful sap?” The knight asked anyway, with no real venom in his tone but a flighty wariness that tugged at the king’s heartstrings.
“Never without your consent, my love,” the king said. “She will merely extend the blessing of my protection over you as well. Will you accept, so as to waylay my worried soul?”
The knight took the king’s face in his hands, gently rested their foreheads together. How lucky he was! So easy was it for the king to strip him of his rank and title, keep him close and contained, but no. He had found a lord and lover that respected him and honored him, and the knight’s heart already ached with the loneliness of their parting despite the warmth of his king so close to him now.
“With your blessing I will venture forth, and with your blessing I will return.”
King’s Tale by ashpwright
In a deep, deep kingdom of the mountain, there lived a cruel king with too many sons. He found his firstborn weak and soft of heart, so he banished him. In an act of measured cruelty, the father cut off his son’s fingers on his sword hand, so he would never return to challenge his father.
The prince wandered the wilds, aimless and without purpose. He journeyed to where he thought he would meet his end. One day he met a raven on the tree of death, who told him she knew of one who could guide him, to for the knew the path of all fate and destiny.
She guided the lost prince to a dark forest, where a great ogre attempted to devour the prince, but found itself slain, the lost prince proving he was not defenseless with sword in left hand. The wandering prince fought with his left hand and sword bravely and slew the ogre. But he suffered with the poisonous venom of the ogre's blood, his sword broken in twain.
The Raven healed him with a song that echoed of a spring song still cool with the memory of winter, saying that he will pay this debt to her with his life someday.
The wanderer was then led to Raven’s mistress, the sun blessed Elven Queen of the Dark Forest. She told the wandering prince where he could find one who loathed his cruel father as much as he, wounded but powerful, who would help him find his way home. The path she illuminated led to an old barrow, where many of the dead resided, their bones blackened by fire and cracked by claw.
There in the heart of that barrow, lay the last of the dragon kings, left to die with the bones of those who’d died at the cruel king’s whim to slay the dragon while he watched from a distance. The dying dragon’s black bones glimmered with the promise of vengeance, and a emerald flame bled from its maw.
The Dragon Kng’s bones shattered to dust as all was consumed by flame, until only the Prince and the Raven remained, his hand restored by fragments of dragon bone, a sword of dragon fire in hand.
Alone the Prince marched on his Father’s kingdom, his fury only matched by the flames his sword cut into being.
His father’s black heart was pierced by the sword of vengeance forged by dragonfire and the pain of a betrayed son. And the Prince became King, his father’s crown his own. Some say he would have become his father’s mirror image, if not for the Raven, who revealed herself to have been the Elven Queen all along.
She took his life as promised, became his wife, and bore him six children. But she feared one would grow to take his father’s eye, and the cycle would begin again.
Sword and Chalice by Helga Sable
Aurelius Augistinus by song jie
Peace, At Last by Pedro Krüger Garcia
The king's head rolls before her, leaving a trail of blood on the sand. Her face, previously overflowing with wrath, was now , suddenly, at peace. She kneels before the dead king, takes a deep breath and looks up to the sky: - I feel light. I no longer have to carry this burden. - The warrior besides her got his sword ready, preparing his strike stance: - Are you ready? - Yes. - Said her, closing her eyes calmly. Her brother, while immobilized by one of the warriors in the background, was screaming for mercy, trying to save his sister's life. But she already made up her mind. She'd found peace, at last.
Gryphon Council Officer by Juan Angel