Late Hour



                      Late Hour orginal stories
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roe_ben
roe_ben Ends are Coming
Autoplay OFF   •   9 months ago
King's Late Hours

Late Hour

The wooden door had huge black bolts attached to the stone wall and noticeable splinters inside it which signaled that it had not been sanded down when it had been built. It was the front one, which led to the cruel outside. It was a barrier, this door. A barrier from what was torment and what was safe. After all, structure was safe. But all that had changed

for worse and for better. The king could not decide which it had more so changed, though he knew it would reconstruct his entire life ahead of him. Yes, all that changed once he opened that heavy, wooden, splinter-covered barrier. The one he was safe in. The one his parent's made safe.

It was a dark and cold night. The castle was quiet, beside a crack of thunder or two. All the halls were lit with melting candles and the thick, linen curtains had been drawn closed from every window, eliminating

the brightness from the lightning outside, which the king so hated. A warm fire was lit inside the royal's sanctum, his body flinching with every rumble of the deafening thunder. He was bent in front of the fireplace, his back propped up on the front of a red, cushioned settee while a frustrating set of fingers ran through his dark hair,

his covered feet crossed on the floor. His knees were held up to his chest, which invented an X between his legs. The king shook his head as he stared into the flames that which he'd name a terrifying hell; Although, in the dark storm that came upon his kingdom and the abandonment that hung around his neck like a deathly noose, he'd call the

fiery view a comforting hand. The only one at that. Knocks came from the door; Very loud ones. Three bangs shook throughout the castle, causing the king to jump in fright. fearing that a line of thunder had broken one of his stained glass windows or was simply trying to break in through the walls, but failed.

He sighed and stood as his assumptions were far from reality and the knocking had come from the front door of the castle, which was down the large, black carpeted stairway. The king had dusted the loose sleeves that were wrapped around his arms and left his homeful study, making his way down the dimly lit hallway.

Again, the knocks echoed around the first floor of the castle, three all following each other. He hummed at his impatient new guest and stood at the top of the grand stairwell, looking down at the front wooden door. With one swift move, he made his way for the steps, hearing the bottom of his dark boots click along the thin carpet.

His feet had felt heavy as he stole a place at the bottom of the tread, a few feet from the tall two doors, both carved with four deep rectangular shapes, the handles silver with two locks on top of the right one. The knocks came again and the king began to stride over, slightly sighing as there was hardly anybody in the castle at this time.

Guards and the very few maids were sent home early that night on behalf of the king's wishes. Nobody had ever dared to disrupt the king when he was going through the hours of a phase when he needn't be bothered by people, so they let him be. But that didn't answer the question; Why would somebody knock on his door at a late hour as such?

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