Work Text:
A soldier wishes for the power of a king.
As a soldier, you fight. As a soldier, you protect. As a soldier, you swear your life to this duty that you have now committed yourself to. But is it worth it? Tell me. Tell me little lion man. Your father, your mother, they cry for you. Your brother, your sister, they worry for you. Your husband, your wife, they yearn for you. Your son, your daughter, they look for you. Tell me, please. Tell me. Tell me, how much do you miss them?
What do you wish for? Tell me, little lion man, what do you wish for? “The power of a king” you say. But, my dear, hear me when I say…
A king wishes for the freedom of a poet.
As a king, you rule. As a king, you protect. As a king, you swear your loyalty to the people that have now placed their trust in you. But is it worth it? Tell me. Tell me, your majesty. How long will you wear that heavy chunk of metal? What value does it hold other than a few measly coins? What value does it hold other than your status? Would you choose diamonds over your family? Would you choose gold over your friends? Would you choose yourself over your people?
What do you wish for, your majesty? Tell me, what do you wish for? Then you tell me that you wish for “the freedom of a poet.” But your majesty, not everything is as simple as they seem.
A poet wishes for the strength of a knight.
As a poet, you write. With a feathered pen and a piece of parchment, stories and feelings spill. They spill onto the paper, they spill over the edge. They spill onto the floor and fill up the room. They fill up the room only to trap you. They trap you only to drown you. The words you write are your thoughts. You pour your tears into each stroke. With each stroke, you write with your own blood. You read the people around you, but yet, you forget to read yourself. Are you happy yet? You tell yourself yes. Yes, of course I am happy. But yet, you still cry yourself to sleep every night.
What do you wish for? Tell me, my muse, my song? What do you wish for? “The strength of a knight.” Boy, do I have a story for you.
And how about you?
My dear reader, I see you there. Maybe holding back tears? Or maybe they’ve already fallen. Maybe you’re reading late at night. What time is it? How do you feel? What do you wish for? Tell me. Tell me, my dear reader. Tell me, what do you wish for?