LJ Idol Season 9, Week 14: "Confession from the Chair"
"Hallelujah"
The king was pacing around the throne room, muttering to himself, when the messenger arrived. As the king turned to face him, the servant quickly dropped to one knee. "Your Highness."
"What is it?" the king asked, clearly making an effort to calm himself down.
"A message from the Queen," he said, handing a scroll to one of the guards, who passed it to the king. "She requests that you meet her at the main kitchen."
"Why does she not come here, or bid me come to her chamber?"
The guard who had handed him the note cleared his throat. "Perhaps she wishes to talk on neutral ground, Your Highness."
With a nod, the king thanked the courier and turned back toward the throne.
*****
"Why are we here?" In addition to never having been inside the kitchen since its construction, he had also never seen his wife as determined as she seemed to be.
"It's the only place where I can say what needs to be said. Sit down."
As the king did so, the queen stood up, moving swiftly around his chair and dragging a hand across his shoulders. Leaning down as though to whisper something in his ear, she used her other hand to pin his arms behind the chair.
"What are you doing?" The question came more as a shout, as she bound his hands with the scarf she had concealed in her robes.
"You're not leaving until I hear what I need to hear." Returning from behind the chair, she stood in front of him, just out of reach.
The king sighed heavily. "And what, pray tell, is that?"
"That you still know who you are."
"Come again?"
The queen began to pace back and forth as she spoke. "Look, I know we didn't meet under the most...noble of circumstances. And I recognize that the years since then have been tumultuous."
"You could say that again," the king muttered to himself. He thought back: two sons dead, another who had tried to take his throne, a daughter defiled. Tears, heartbreak, dissension...all of it deserved.
"But have you forgotten how you got here? You've slayed giants, conquered kingdoms, built this palace. And how have you done it?" She stopped her pacing and stared down at him.
The king met his wife's gaze. "Only by the grace of God," he said, mechanically.
"You don't mean it when you say it. You've lost your way, and you've lost the love you once had for Him."
"How can you say that?" The king tried to stand up, but the scarf held him fast to the chair.
"Easy. When was the last time you wrote a song?" He paused, trying to remember. "My point exactly."
The king looked back up at the queen, slowly. "Is that what will get me out of this chair? Writing a song?"
"I don't think that's necessary," she replied. "Though I would like to see you start again--you've got such a great gift for it. No, I just want to know that you've still got the song in your heart."
The king began to weep. He moved as though to bury his face in his hands, but again the bindings prevented him from doing so. Seeing his discomfort, his wife unbound him, clasping hands with him and kneeling in front of him.
"Let's praise him together. Let's come back to God, and He will come back to us." She began humming the song of praise, and he muttered his own written words under his breath.
"O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise."
*****
She tied you to the kitchen chair,
She broke your throat, she cut your hair,
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah...
Hallelujah, Hallelujah,
Hallelujah, Hallelujah.