A Royal Sitting in the Throne Room

His Majesty the King sat comfortably on the throne, nestled within the four walls of the throne room, adorned with colorful mosaics. He was engaged in his favorite morning pastime – reading the daily paper, a pleasure he rarely found time for amidst the demands of state affairs and royal duties.

Behind the heavy doors of the throne room, the hurried footsteps of his Queen could be heard. The King, sensing the rapid pitter-patter of Her Majesty’s feet, which grew louder and then faded away, felt a strange tension in the air. He paused his favorite morning ritual, listening intently, hoping to discern the reason for this odd behavior merely by the way her feet hit the ground or by counting her steps.

At that moment, the bells from the basilica tower began to ring out the tune of "When the Morning Dawns...", drowning out the curious secular ritual unfolding just outside the door. Yet, despite his great wisdom, the King could not fathom the cause of his wife's behavior. Lowering his right eyebrow back to its usual position, he resumed his reading. Just as he found the spot where he had been interrupted, a piercing scream rang out from the mouth of the venerable Queen:

"Will you finally come out of the bathroom? You're not the most important person here!!!"

The King's New Clothes

His Majesty the King stood before a grand crystal mirror, trying on his lavish new garments. A small, bald man with darting eyes scurried around the Monarch, bursting with admiration for the King's appearance and impeccable taste. The little man was working feverishly to ensure the King felt perfectly at ease in his new attire. He smoothed here, adjusted there, even flicked an invisible speck from the royal shoulder, all while rubbing his hands with glee.

The Monarch could not shake the feeling that only in these clothes would he command the respect of his foes and the love of his subjects. He realized that the new attire was an essential attribute of his royal authority.

And then, as if from nowhere, Her Majesty the Queen appeared, blocking the little man's reflection in the mirror with her stern presence. She cast a severe look at her husband and, through gritted teeth, muttered:

"Excuse me, but how do you plan to pay for such an expensive suit?"

The King lowered his head. It finally dawned on him – he was stripped of all his power.

Spring, Your Majesty!

Spring had arrived, so quietly and unnoticed that His Majesty the King simply missed its first signs. And who could blame him? He was terribly busy and had no time to spare. He even missed the passing of the Queen Mother. It’s not to say he didn’t bring her to the finest clinic in a neighboring kingdom – because he did. He paid for the best specialists, oncologists. But when she died alone, in a foreign place, among strangers speaking a foreign tongue, the King had a state council to attend.

Snowdrops timidly pushed their heads through the dirty blanket of snow, and the birds rehearsed their songs for the great courtship concert. His Majesty the King neither saw nor heard any of this. He returned home after eight each evening, with no time even for his heir, to play or help with homework. All he could do was tuck him under a blanket decorated with colorful teddy bears and kiss him on the forehead goodnight.

One day, as he was leaving for his daily duties in the morning, he noticed the lush green leaves on the weeping willow that stood near the entrance to the stairwell of the royal residence.

The King was deeply moved by the sight, but by then, it was too late.