Just east of the Sun, and west of the Moon...
Once upon a time, quite a long time ago, there lived a Wicked King. Now, it was not the King's fault that he was wicked. He had been raised that way, and, being King, nobody ever told him better. After all, who would disagree with a wicked king?
The Wicked King had a grand courtroom, in a grand palace, surrounded by grand and beautiful gardens (kept by an equally grand and beautiful gardener). The Wicked King had many subjects and servants and courtiers. And at least one witch that anybody knew of; though of course there might be more.
But, despite all this, and all the balls, and hunts, and wars, and many other much more wicked passtimes besides, the Wicked King was lonely. After all, who wants to be friends with a wicked king?
The Wicked King had a grand courtroom, in a grand palace, surrounded by grand and beautiful gardens (kept by an equally grand and beautiful gardener). The Wicked King had many subjects and servants and courtiers. And at least one witch that anybody knew of; though of course there might be more.
But, despite all this, and all the balls, and hunts, and wars, and many other much more wicked passtimes besides, the Wicked King was lonely. After all, who wants to be friends with a wicked king?