Drama Historical Fiction

“She’ll take the same,” he said, in a voice so careless, so quiet and easy and unconcerned, that it made me want to scream. It was the first time he’d openly referred to me since we’d formally met half an hour ago. He hadn’t turned to me, hadn’t looked at my face, hadn’t stooped to ask me a question himself; he gestured with his long, elegant, ring-bedecked fingers behind him and to his right, where I stood with my hands clasped and my mouth shut. As though it were only natural he should speak for me without my consent.

The servant only glanced at me before bowing his head. “Two cups of lemon tea. Do you need anything else, your majesty?” 

“Nothing else. My wife and I would like some time in private.” 

I wanted to say something; words rose from my chest into my throat, but they crowded and stuck there, silencing me and restricting my breathing for a moment. The servant stepped smartly past us, and King Tyris - my conqueror, my enemy, my betrothed - led me down the hallway toward an open door.

He still didn’t speak to me as he passed through the door, a single crooked finger inviting me to follow him. It led to a small, warmly lit room with two plush chairs situated around a circular table; he sat in one and nodded for me to take the other. I tried to catch his eye, but he was staring a little above me, into space, as though even here his thoughts were too high for me to disturb. 

The words in my throat twisted and swirled, fighting toward my mouth. When they came out, before I’d taken his implicit command to sit, they were barbed. “I hate lemon.”

He glanced at me briefly, as though I’d said something silly and of no consequence. “Have you ever had lemon tea? It’s not like eating a lemon. You’ll like it.” 

My jaw clenched. It shouldn’t have mattered; over the last week hadn’t I seen enough horror to expect offhand rudeness from King Tyris? Shouldn’t I have expected much worse than being treated to tea I didn’t like? But the way he spoke to me without quite looking, without quite hearing, as though he knew everything about me already and wasn’t interested -

“I’ve had lemon tea,” I said resolutely. “I hate it.” 

“You can put some sugar in it, if the taste is really too much for you.”

“We have sugar in my kingdom.” I took a heedless step toward him, thinking stupidly to look intimidating; he didn’t move a muscle, didn’t react with more concern than he would to a buzzing fly. “Sugar doesn’t change what kind of tea it is. I hate lemon.” 

At last, with a longsuffering look, he turned and leaned on the arm of his chair to face me. Something gleamed at his throat, and my jaw clenched tight again; a sharp, pure silver triangle hanging from a simple copper chain. The necklace my father had worn, the symbol of his royal house. King Tyris had plucked it from his corpse after the battle was finished. 

“My esteemed lady,” he said, only a touch of sarcasm coloring the words. “There’s really no way we’ll be able to live together if we argue over petty things like tea flavors.”

“You could have asked me what I wanted.” 

His thin lips curled up into a patronizing smile. “Is that how the monarchy operates in your country? Did your king hang on his queen’s every tiny command, and refuse to make any decision unless it was hers?”

“I’m not making any demands of you.” He had no right to talk about my father and mother that way. Something burned in my chest. He had them both killed; he struck the blow himself at my father; he watched the light leave his eyes at the moment I became an orphan. “Your servant asked what kind of tea you’d take. I could have spoken my own request, that’s all.” 

“Well, what does it matter?”

“What does it matter?” My hands curled involuntarily into fists. I hated him, hated every line and plane of his face, those eyes that were so nonchalant and free, the throat that held my father’s chain. “It matters because I hate lemon.” 

He exhaled, a dignified, kingly version of a laugh. “Your hatred is noted.”

“When the servant comes back here, I’m sending him for peppermint tea.”

“The servant has other duties.” 

“You sent him for your tea.” I’d taken another step, hardly knowing myself; blistering heat was thrumming up from my insides, shooting out into my limbs, making me feel on the verge of an explosion. “I’m the queen, I’m entitled to send for my tea as well.”

“So, you’re determined to become a nagging wife.” He released that little half-laugh exhale again. “Always sending the servants about to cater to your every whim. You’ll not be satisfied with them unless everything is exactly as you wish it. Spoiled daughters do turn out that way, I’m told.”

It was another dig against my parents. I packed as much venom into my words as possible; I spat them uselessly out at him. “If you’re so concerned for the servants, go and get me my peppermint tea yourself.”

“Now, now.” He turned to me with a raised eyebrow, as if imploring me to hear the ridiculousness of my words. 

“Well, then, I’m sending the servant for it!” My voice rose along with my temper.

“Really, my lady, there’s no need to get hysterical.”

I wanted to shove him, wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, but he was relaxed and easy in his chair and I stood tense and brittle over him. I shook myself with all the pent-up fury in me. The blistering heat was cracking across my skin. I wanted to smear away his cold indifference, leave him raw and bloody and vulnerable; I wanted to show him I wasn’t so easily beaten into submission.

But wasn’t I? I was an orphan. He’d conquered my kingdom. That I was at his mercy as his wife was only the way of things.

A soft knock sounded at the door. King Tyris called the servant in, and he appeared with a tray - milk and two teacups, nothing more. I turned to watch as he crossed the room and placed it delicately down on the table between our two chairs. The tea was a strange golden color that caught the light in a way tea shouldn’t. Instinctive mistrust swelled like poison through my anger. 

“Take a sip, now,” said King Tyris, picking up one of the cups and offering it to me. “I think you’ll find it’s quite to your liking.”

I took a tiny sip. The sweetness was dizzying as it rolled over my tongue; the tea was at least three-fourths honey. 

“Not like eating a lemon after all, is it?” he said, reading my expression. 

I could barely swallow the sip I’d taken. The bitter lemon taste had been masked well enough, but nothing of the tea remained underneath it; I might as well have been eating straight from a honeycomb. It blocked my throat off for a moment with something far more tangible than too many words.

“There,” he said, settling back into his chair as though every problem between us had just been solved. “I told you you’d like it.”

It felt like a slap in the face. He hadn’t even let me respond. I hated him more each second, every molecule that made up his form, every fold of his clothes, every strand of his hair. My heart thundered in my ears, and my good sense was left far behind - I knew what this man was capable of, had seen it with my own eyes, but it couldn’t stop me carrying the fury within me to its conclusion. 

I flung the teacup across the room and it shattered, spraying honey-tea around it, on the opposite wall. “I despise it!” 

Fear spiked through me the moment after I did it. He could have me killed even more easily than he’d killed my parents. I wasn’t armed, wasn’t trained in war; I didn’t have anyone around me on my side. He could snap his fingers and end my life, and find another helpless princess to be his bride. 

But along with that fear, spiking in tandem with it and keeping my heartbeat high and loud, there came the certainty that I didn’t care. That if he had me killed for defying him I would welcome it, I’d prefer it to a lifetime of being a quiet, conquered woman, a submissive prize for him to flaunt over others who’d dare imply his power wasn’t absolute. I whirled around again to face him, prepared for his fury, prepared to be unswayed by it.

He hadn’t even looked up. He was still taking the first leisurely sip of his own drink.

My shoulders rose and fell as I stared at him.

“A servant will clean that up,” he said, tranquil. “And I’ll send for another cup for you. In the meantime, you’ll simply have to be thirsty.”

At another moment, his utterly unruffled demeanor might have broken me. I might have collapsed against the tide of just how powerless I really was, how easily he could ignore my wrath and my pain - how stupid he made me look, made me feel, throwing a fit over tea, even though he knew what we were really arguing about. I might have sunk to my knees and wept until he thrust another cup into my hands, and then I might have choked it down, three-fourths honey or no, to sweeten the ordeal that would be the rest of my life.

Only the certainty was still pounding through me. I still knew I’d do anything rather than surrender to him. And the helplessness was mitigated by a single, tiny thing.

A silver thing on a copper chain. The triangle, knife’s-edge sharp, that hung around my king and husband’s neck. 

For a moment I was cobra-still. He still wasn’t looking at me. He thought nothing of me, hadn’t even considered to fear me; he thought gripes over tea were the greatest fight I had in me. But that, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, was a lie.

I stepped forward, and forward, and still he was unfazed. I plucked the teacup from his hand and he looked up at me with nothing but a lazy smirk. Then I pitched myself forward into his lap, leaning in so our faces were only inches apart; this drew a raised eyebrow, a little acknowledgement of my apparent change in mood. 

“My king,” I said quietly. “You’re cruel to me.”

“Not at all,” he said. “I know what’s best for you, that’s all.” 

“Do you think so?”

“I’m sure of it.”

My eyes focused on the necklace. His chest was practically bared to me. I would do anything rather than give in. I would commit any crime, any treason, I would condemn myself to any punishment rather than submit to what he thought was best for me. 

Before he had the chance to register what I was doing, my hand had already whipped up and grabbed hold of it. Warm between my fingers. Warm with the heat of a man my husband had murdered. Warm with the pride of generations of my people, strong and unbroken in the face of all our enemies. Warm with the blood of the dead, and the blood of the living, too, whose hearts beat to protect it.

Before he had the chance to stop me, before he could fight back or cry out or plead for his life, the deed was already done. 

“I hate lemon tea,” I said, and killed him.

July 18, 2020 01:23

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נιмму 🤎
05:33 Jul 18, 2020

Hey, Phoebe ( By the way I love your name its so pretty) This is soooo good! I absolutely love the ending agh! This is such a good take on the prompt! would you mind checking out my new story "promises are broken" when you get the time? would mean a lot :P


Phoebe Barr
03:50 Jul 19, 2020

Yeah, it's a cool story! I left a little comment :)


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Phebe Emmanuel
05:22 Jul 18, 2020

Whooo! I love her! She is such a layered character, and I found myself drawn into the story from the beginning. I was practically begging for her to kill him, and it was satisfying when she did. You're a great writer and have a very bright future. Don't stop writing!


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Elle Clark
06:22 Jul 20, 2020

This is brilliant. Your protag is so well developed and fleshed out. Even though you’ve not detailed any backstory, the way you’ve woven in hints and snippets of it means that I have a fairly good understanding of her motivations and her recent past. Also, the end was so satisfying. A fitting end! I didn’t tackle this prompt as it was too complicated for me and I’ve seen quite a few people do it badly but you’ve nailed it. Great writing!


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Jonathan Blaauw
14:24 Jul 19, 2020

When I first saw this prompt it occurred to me that most arguments in real life seem to be about one thing but are actually about another. We often find it difficult to address deep, underlying issues so end up fighting about small things. Like lemon tea. Your story highlights that perfectly. You really bring the idea across and your word choice is excellent in conveying emotion but still moving the narrative along. And I love how your character knows the flavor of the tea isn’t the issue, but that’s what she’s going to focus on because the...


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Iam Danger
21:39 Aug 01, 2020

So how does she get away? Assuming she stabbed him in the throat and he couldn’t cry out then she has time. Perhaps she goes out a window, parkours around the castle, and leads the resistance? Enjoyed it. Leave the reader wanting more


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Scout Tahoe
16:27 Jul 31, 2020

Great job Phoebe! I absolutely love how the story ends. She is such a strong character, and I sighed with relief when she killed him in the end. What's her name? I don't think you mentioned it. But that detail added more mystery to the story, just like how her past was a swirl of misery that King Tyris was responsible for. I'm a huge fan of you and your writing. I think it's amazing how your words just seem to flow onto the page. Thanks for being so inspirational, -Scout


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Princess Eno
21:21 Jul 18, 2020

I mean, do you hear the phrase "You write beautifully? " . That's exactly what you do! I'm in my messed room, and you got me thinking I'm having tea with the king! Big ups! High five! Well done (I'm not sure what to say!) The ending though. Maybe for mystery, but the mystery has so much mystery. She kills him, just like that? I don't understand that last part. Regardless, your imagery and description of expression is praiseworthy! I loved it!


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Faith Hunter
14:01 Aug 08, 2020

Amazing story!! I love how the girl stayed strong even she knows the king could have her killed. -Faith


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Kaylee Tinsley
18:56 Aug 01, 2020

WOW!!!! I am so impressed! I loved every word! Could this be a novel in the making??? Hmmmm.... something to think on!


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A. S.
17:43 Jul 30, 2020

Great job! You fulfilled the prompt really well. I love how you chose to portray the main character’s anger. Will you read through my newest story?


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Zyönnah Isiguzo
11:27 Jul 23, 2020

OH MY GOD PHOEBE! This would actually make a good TV series! I love it! Especially the ending "I hate lemon tea". Say, do you mind checking my new mystery story? It's called "Her Dark Brown Eyes". Thanks!


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Deborah Angevin
10:41 Jul 22, 2020

The description was beautifully executed, Phoebe! I read the comments and glad that I'm not the only one feeling happy when you killed him for the ending! Also, would you mind checking my recent story out, "Red, Blue, White"? Thank you!


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23:23 Jul 21, 2020

The story sets a quick pace that leaves the reader deliciously breathless. I loved it.


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Katy S.
12:58 Jul 21, 2020

This is so beautiful! I am in raptures, and the ending was perfectly satisfying!


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Ember Schreiner
04:47 Jul 21, 2020

This was an amazing story, I loved it! it really made me feel what she felt, and sure got me leaning forward, and a little mad as well. Veery well done, and good choice of words!


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Christina Hall
01:59 Jul 21, 2020

Very well written. I look forward to reading more from you.


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Sunny 🌼
21:44 Jul 20, 2020

I love this writing style. It feels very regal and tense at the same time. You protagonist was well written and had all of us rooting for her. I think I might check out some of your other stories.


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Lily Shen
02:21 Jul 20, 2020

This story was a real page turner. A petty argument about tea was really about woman's high stakes fight for her own survival.


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12:01 Jul 22, 2020

Love this! It really teleported me into the story. Although...what’s the girl’s name? I don’t think you mentioned it, and if you did, I missed it. Nice job! Would you mind checking out my stories? Thank you! —Aerin


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