Queens and pawns

I just automatically assumed that…well I was mistaken,  I thought the only palace in London these days was that Buckingham one. Seems as though I had come full circle.
Again, I found myself in a fucking throne room. And not just any throne room, no! The very same one that good old fat Henry often frequented. The same one in which he elegantly deflected my rage onto the Vatican. Fat bastard. Hampton Court palace.
She/he/it sat on the throne with its mask of sorrow looking down on me. Grim had fallen in line with the other metal heads. Each mask held a different emotion. Grim’s wore defiance, but then again, that was Grim all over, except for now of course. Now he was this phycopaths chess piece. They lined the walls, standing shoulder to shoulder like barriers between the huge marble pillars on each side of the throne. I didn’t see any weapons but I knew that these kittens weren’t bothered about getting a little bloodied. Good. If it comes to it, neither am I.
I looked up at…it. it was leaning forwards, perched on the edge of the throne. To be honest it kind of unsettled me.
‘Well? Now you have me!’
‘Now I have you?’ She repeated. I flinched when I heard her voice. I did not expect that. She was big and a little menacing, especially for a woman!
‘Look, ahhhh…’ I ran out of words, I just shrugged. She laughed, the rest of the room stayed silent, unnaturally silent. That was the moment I realised that I wouldn’t be able to leave of my own free will. She had me. Check.


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