kingsman: all of our agents have code names á la the likes of arthurs knights of the round table, galahad, lancelot etcétéra, truly symbolising that the kingsmen are the knights of modern time, that we are loyal to country and queen and are the protectors of the free world
statesman: like sum fuckn alcohol i dun know
From the time she was a child, the Lady Karen was expected to marry well. Imagine how pleased her parents were when she was able to capture the attention of the King of Camelot himself! Yet, despite the fact she had captured his attention, Karen knew that his heart belonged to a woman from long ago; a ghost from his past. She accepted his proposal because her family and tenants needed the protection of an army the size of King Matthew’s against their mutual enemy, the Hand. And, maybe, just maybe, Matthew would heal and come to love Karen the way he loved his ghost.
But as the engagement drew closer to the wedding, Matthew became more withdrawn and Karen began to see that this wouldn’t be the case. She decided to accept that her marriage would be nothing but a mutual agreement such as her parents were and confided this to her only friend in King Matthew’s court, a knight by the name of Sir Frank.
Frank was angry at Matthew and told her as such saying that he was so caught up in his past, that he couldn’t see just how good his future could be with her.
Karen didn’t know much about this knight, except that he was in charge of the rest of the knights of the Round Table and that his family was rumored to be killed in a raid in Frank’s home village shorty before he became a knight.
And yet, despite his cryptic past, Karen found in him what she had never found anywhere else: a place of belonging; someone she could be herself without her family or an entire kingdom to judge her for her mishaps.
She didn’t know how or when it happened. Maybe it was a result of spending so much time with him or after he rescued her from being captured by the Hand, but Karen found the lines between love and friendship with Sir Frank to become very blurred. She hadn’t meant to fall in love with him; she just had. It wasn’t just lust or some fleeting fancy to distract her from her loveless engagement. It was something far deeper. Karen knew this and she was pretty sure Frank did as well, though he would die before admitting to falling in love with the king’s soon-to-be-wife.
Her parents would disown her; the kingdom of Camelot would turn on her and her family.
But there was a part of Karen that just didn’t care.
His peers dub him the Bloody Knight.
Not for the heads he takes,
as he takes none.
Nor for the battles he fights,
as he shows only mercy.
Instead, it is for
in his palms.
Priests call the wounds “Christ-marks.”
Perfect circles, perfectly centered,
showing no bone or gristle
when sunlight shines through.
His aged father claims
they were there all his life.
Whenever he prays,
On feast days, he eats alone.
The other knights stay far away,
and whisper rumors to their wives.
He is too righteous, for some men,
the others sore because
he bested them,
and spared their lives
in hateful clemency.
His king pays it no mind.
Where others fear to touch,
he freely gives affection,
laying clean, smooth hands
on stained gloves.
“Jealous bastards,” he says,
Each night, they lay together.
Faces close, and sharing breath.
One of the king’s hands
held firmly in his,
he thanks God for this man:
the love of his life.
As he communes with his Lord,
the knight’s palms trickle blood,
staining their sleeves.