Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Hope ❯ Secret Whisperer ( Chapter 3 )

Secret Whisperer

When I was a young boy, my father would tell me in secret, away from the prying ears of the Church, that when I became King, I was to strip the power from the Church or our Kingdom would die. Then, I didn't understand what my father meant, but I understood that he didn't like the strange men that dressed in red and white. My father died when I was but ten summers old. On his deathbed, he made me promise to keep our secret and fulfill it when I took his place. Being the young boy that I was, I wanted my father to be proud and made that promise, my hand over my heart. With my father's last breath, the Church took command of the Kingdom.

When I was a young man, my lovers (both men and women) would tell their friends in secret, away from the prying ears of anyone involved with the Church and Royalty, that the Prince had bedded them. Never did I mind, until I met the blacksmiths apprentice. He was tall, muscled and lean, with the darkest hair and brightest eyes I had ever seen. He was a difficult catch, the most challenging. I didn't mind that he was two summers older than I, even though I usually went for those younger than myself. I fell hard for him, but only got to bed him that once, because soon after, he left for war. My coronation came and I fulfilled my secret promise to my father.

When I was a full-grown man, I whispered secrets to my lover. He was the General of my army and our love was forbidden. Nevertheless, I told him everything. He was my living, breathing journal. My safeguard should I fail to keep my promise with my father and the Church take over once more. Then, I was forced to marry. An alliance between two warring Kingdoms. Secret kisses stolen in the halls with my lover, secret meetings at night. Always careful to avoid the notice of my wife. My Queen. My lover went out to war one day and came back severely wounded. He was given an honorable discharge and secretly, I was happy. I hated when he was in danger.

When I was an old man, I would tell my son in secret, away from the prying ears of my wife, not to let the Church or his mothers people take over the Kingdom. I could feel Eternal Slumber approach, my lover having already succumbed. I missed being able to tell him things, whisper secrets to him in the dead of night. I secretly trained my son to assure that he could keep our secrets.

When I died, I whispered no more secrets, yet my son would stay up late to whisper them to me. At first, it was about how he was terrified to rule, then he was afraid his wife might miscarry. Then, it was about how he taught his son how to whisper secrets, and I was secretly proud.