A/N: Although I sometimes use examples of real people and real objects that existed during the Medieval Period, please know that this story is a complete work of fiction and has no basis in reality at all. Warning: some foul or insensitive language is used!

His Highness is Ridiculous

Some kings are great kings, renowned for their superb leadership or their bravery in times of war. Some kings are feared kings, notorious for their bloodshed or odd preference for impaling people. Some kings are just plain greedy kings, remembered simply because they abused their power by taking unrestrainedly from their subjects. But none of these kings could possibly compare to the most underrated and difficult kind of king known to mankind: the ridiculous king.

Just to clear up any confusion, we're not talking about me. I'm just a servant (you know, waiting-on-his-highness-hand-and-foot, reading-ye-royal-letters, keeping-ye-royal-secrets, popping-ye-royal-pimples, etc.) which happens to be the lowliest court subject there is. The job doesn't pay, but you get free food, room and board, and you're whole family line is pretty much guaranteed a position somewhere in court. It's not all that bad. Other than the lingering knowledge in the back of my head that at any moment the king could get angry and have me thrown to his pet lions, I'd say my work is bearable. Heck, I'll even go as far as to say that I don't completely loath my existence.

But back to the king. It is the age of our Great Lord King Rutherford the VI. King Rutherford is… unusual, to put it lightly. King Rutherford is young and rebellious. Young Rutherford's father was murdered by dwarves in Tithledale when he was 11, and his mother drowned herself in her bath 5 years later. Needless to say, Rutherford became the king at a susceptible young age and even though he is now 17, he has no idea how to run a kingdom. He only knows how to run his mouth. And believe me, he is sharp tonged little bastard- Oh, excuse me. I shouldn't talk that way.

But take yesterday, for example. I was attempting to disrobe him in order to put him into the bath when he accused me of wanting to ravage his body. Which is absurd, because I'm a guy.

"Sire, I only mean to put you into the bathtub," I argued lightly, keeping myself in check as I removed his tunic.

"Don't lie to me, Thomas. I can clearly see you eyeing my nether regions," He gloated.

"Your nether regions are of no interest to me," I said casually. Well, I mean, as casually as one can speak of such matters.

"Oh, really? Then why are you getting all hot and sweaty while you try to remove my trousers?" He mused, looking down at me as I knelt before him.

I mean, really? Like it was my intention to struggle with the death knot he tied in the front of his pants. I was so flustered that I had to have Gerald take over for the night.

And now, he was calling me into his bed chamber yet again. I had a glass of grape juice in my hands already, lest he try to send me back downstairs to get him a glass like he did every time. I handed the glass of juice to the guard outside his door, and proceeded to knock three times.

"Come in, Thomas," he called.

I opened the door to see him leaning against the fireplace with a bored expression on his angular face. His brown hair was still wet from his bath, and it looked like he had attempted to pull most of it back into a pony tail near the nape of his neck. Of course, a few shorter strands hung lazily over his forehead, nearly poking into his mischievous eyes. When he saw me, the left corner of his lips curled upward in a half-smile, and I somehow knew that I was going to hate my life tonight.

"Close the door," He ordered, crossing his arms slowly.

I obeyed, for what choice did I really have? He was staring at me silently, probably thinking that he looked handsome leaning up against the fireplace like he was. Which, he kind of did, but hell if I was going to give the kid an even bigger head than he already had.

"Have you ever felt," he began, pushing himself off of the brick fireplace and walking towards me. "Have you ever felt like you needed something to complete yourself? Like you weren't whole, yet?"

I wasn't sure how to answer, so I gave a noncommittal grunt instead. I hated it when he got all philosophical. Philosophy always led to a detriment of my well-being.

"I need to get out of here, Thomas," He sighed.

"Shall we… go to the kitchens?" I suggested. He scoffed.

"Shall I… Shall I prepare your horses for an evening walk?" I asked, praying that he was talking about needing a simple breath of fresh air. Of course, servant's prayers are rarely answered.

"No. I want to go away. I want to see the world for myself. I want to know what's out there," Rutherford said with passion, turning away from me and looking out of the window into the starless sky outside. I began to sweat, and dabbed the ends of my sleeves to my forehead. What is he trying to say? That he wants to... leave the kingdom? Madness. Utter, pig-headed madness.

"Sire, really, you don't want to do that. The outside world is actually a horrible, ugly place. There's dirt and wild animals and murderers and evil women. Not to mention the rest of the people. They're all common and stupid! Trust me on this, I've been there before. You wouldn't want to be out there alone," I said, shaking my head as if ashamed that the outside world even had to exist.

He stared blankly at me for a moment and then laughed. It started off as a little chuckle, and then grew to the point where he was gasping for air like a fish out of water. I was sure the guard outside of the door was going to come in and spear me at any moment.

Finally, after Rutherford sucked in enough oxygen to function as a normal human being again, he looked at me and said, "I'm not going alone, stupid. You're coming with me! And we're leaving tonight, so pack me some clothes. Also, fetch me some grape juice."

I wonder if it's too late to throw myself to the lions.