So lonely. And cold. Why does the world continue to turn if there is no heat? If no one cares, why do they live? Why is it that people can so harm themselves and others then assume they can continue with their sodden lives. Innocent people are burned and destroyed by the flippant whims of a childish, spoilt king who can't even tell when his kingdom has turned against him and his advisers. Why does he sit, lifeless, as his senate assaults his people with their power? I don't understand. Often, in their earlier days, kings seem like wondrous, honorable creatures. Of such creatures it was beyond our knowledge to understand their reasoning, we were told. Yet, they're no better than we, just with an easier, softer life. Away from the blistering cold, broiling heat, and work-hardened hands. Away from the children in bondage because their parents sold them to feed themselves. Away from the elders who lay abandoned in their homes because they cannot work and are therefore burdens. Does he find comfort in the ash about his feet? Or does it pain him yet, though his heart has hardened? I would have warmed myself by him but he rejected me, kicking me away like trash in a gutter. I want to run, now, but cannot escape the alluring feel of death emanating from this motionless man. Just a man. Nothing more.

"I tried to warn you they'd come..." I whispered in his ear. "You should have listened. Now look at you! As black as a slave, and as sour faced as an old coot like me. A man of your age and stature should be fresh faced and smiling with your luck!" I patted his face, tsking as bits of burned flesh floated from his face, exposing the flesh underneath. I sighed. "Too bad, too bad. Well, at least you'll listen to me, your highness. Now that you realize how cruel this fickle world is. And they only had to burn you to death to make you realize it!" I cackled and skipped away into the night. Ah, so cold.