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The king is never mad, only slightly discontent. The term mad king is a string of words that strike fear into people's hearts, and it’s exactly how Ryan wants it. It's a placebo, a pill Ryan hands out to people so they can swallow it and shut up. No other kingdom fucks with him because they think he’ll skin them alive and wear their flesh like a fucking prize. It's an elaborate social experiment Ryan's been running for decades now. No kingdom, except the one of roses, seem to get the point of his Mad King title.
But then again Ray hasn't been so truthful either. Every rose has a thorn and Ryan's seen it proven. Ray puts up this facade of being peaceful, making him stand out in the field of kings only to prick whoever dares pick him up; Ray gets a kick at watching people bleed. He’s the youngest of all the kings, and yet, he's won almost more battles then the Mighty Mogar has. It's impressive and terrifying, the way Ray scents the air with his sweet aroma, only to thrust down his sword and behead anyone who’s ever dared to cross him. So Ryan wants to have a chat with the young king. Because he’s intrigued. (Because he wanted to ensure his kingdom is safe.) He throws on his own facade and wears a crown of thorns to show Ray he's not afraid of him. To show him he’s not afraid of a few pathetic torns.
Strangely Ryan has some good conversation and a few good laughs.
And Ray comes around again. And again and again until it's a regular thing and Ryan doesn’t know whether to treat Ray like a weed that’s plagued his kingdom or a rare flower that has blossomed in his garden.
Ray’s eyes never look at Ryan with a glint of murderous rage; and for a second Ryan forgot who the flower here really was.
Ryan wanted to show Ray some inventions, he walked down the paths in his kingdom and was greeted with warm hello’s. Someone gave Ray some roses of different colors, yellows, blues, pinks, colors that don’t occur in nature.
“The secret,” said the florist, “Is cutting the stems and dunking them in dye made from berries grown right here in the garden. Me son loves them, thought it would give you a smile if I welcomed you with some.” Ryan paid for them himself despite protests from the florist.
Ryan threw down his fake ‘Mad King’ charade in order to show Ray the real him. Although his humor was still a bit morbid, he’d get stopped regularly on the street to be shown inventions by his kingdom folk. Some malfunction, some broke in half, one caught fire, but no one feared a repercussion. No one feared Ryan, for all he did when something didn’t work was offer advice.
“You’re wasting your time,” Ray said, “These inventions don’t work, and people stop you for half finished inventions. Someone didn’t even make one! It was just a drawing!” Ray huffed impatiently.
“Do you yell at your flowers when they don’t grow? Or do you wait for them to blossom?” Ryan said, as he watched a few kites fly into the sky, he smiled to himself, each design was different, unique; even though most of them fell to the ground after a few seconds of floating. “If you cut down every flower before it can blossom how do you know if it’s beautiful or not? I mean I could yell at my inventors, call them names, throw their sketches into a fire, but what good would that do? Sure some break and some falter but if they don’t learn from their mistakes how can I expect them to fix them? Besides, inventions will bring the new era of war.”
Ray furrowed his brow.
~~~
Ray’s kingdom was the most stunning. The roads were paved with stones dyed pink and brown, armor had pattern etched into the iron the castle was a sight that made you breathless. Ray seemed to put all his time into the arts, commissioning everyone who could hold a paintbrush to man his kingdom seem happy and playful. Kids could be seen practicing painting on store walls and it made Ryan's heart swell a bit when he saw commoners happy.
"I'm not a monster you know," Ray said when he caught Ryan's shocked expression, "Just don't cross me.”
Ryan started to realize they hung out a lot.
It made Ryan’s heart race though, maybe with fear when he saw the inside of Ray’s throne room, a place where he judged people and dealt with war threats. There seemed to be reddish brown stains on the carpet that wouldn’t come out and an array of weapons right at Ray’s reach.
But his throne was comfortable. It was a dark red throne with pink roses engraved onto it, it gave off this charming, mature look but with a splash of playfulness.
“How many people have you killed here? My liege,” Ryan teased as rests his cheek on his fist. His crown was askew as he claimed Ray’s throne for his own, but Ray had a playful grin on his face and a sword in his hand.
“Many,” His voice was as thick as red wine cascading down someone’s throat, “That’s my throne.” he pointed out. He wasn’t so keen on sharing things that were his.
“How are you going to reclaim it?” Ryan challenged when Ray sat ontop of him, suddenly, Ryan seemed to jump to attention, no longer acting bored but very intrigued with the way things were going. He felt Ray’s hands on the back of neck, slowly he ghosted his fingers up and down, never breaking eye contact, never leaning in to take things further.
“Give me my chair back,” He whispered sweetly in Ryan’s ear, his voice filled with false sugar as the younger King nipped gently at the cartilage.
“How much do you want it back?” Ray kissed Ryan slowly, he brushed his thumbs over the other royal’s cheek and moaned softly into the kiss. “I want the throne back very much.” He whispered, going in for another kiss with Ryan and backing away from it slowly, being sure to bite Ryan’s bottom lip and bring it with him. Ray nipped at the older’s neck, only for Ryan to take him by storm and kiss him passionately, grabbing at the younger’s hair and threading it in between his fingers. His blood was rushing and his heart was pounding, and Ryan took the plunge to mark up ray’s neck, biting unmercifully at the skin there, leaving beautiful bruises up his neck. Ryan’s hands moved downward, lifting up Ray’s black shirt to expose his shockingly pale skin. He touched Ray all over until the younger couldn’t take it anymore, panting and getting fed up with the teasing Ryan asked, finally, if he could try something to make Ray feel good. To which Ray consented to and all was right.
So they left the throne room to go somewhere more private. A place where Ryan could lay down and kiss Ray in places he probably hasn’t been kissed. Where Ray sat comfortably on a different type of throne, panting and shaking from the energy of moving himself. Ryan had a hand dripping with very expensive king-like oils and precum pumping up and down Ray’s cock while the younger shuddered with every movement me made rocking and bouncing up and down Ryan's dick. When Ray was close to the end he kissed Ryan to silence his moan, to which the older retaliated and bit down hard on Ray’s shoulder when he came. Each of them depriving the other with the sound they make during sex, a battle to be lost later. Ray’s face was positively red after the encounter, new bruises littered his torso like black holes in a galaxy.
“And this is my castle I hope you’ve enjoyed you stay at the Kingdom la Ray.” Ryan laughed and kissed Ray’s lips lovingly.
“How was that for a throne?” Ray rolled his eyes and sunk right next to Ryan, the ginger King’s arm protectively over Ray, while the younger rested his head on his chest.
They stayed like that for a moment, and the “Mad King” became the “Madly in love King,” while the “King of Roses” stayed just that, except a more, de-thorned King of Roses.