The King Who Wasn't Always King

The king wasn't always king. He was the firstborn son of a warrior who was knighted for his service to the Great Empire. Barely a man of any importance, the king was really just a commoner—the offspring of the lowest level of lord in the lands, only given a title out of fashion than service or nobility. It was a granted privilege, not gained by wealth nor influence nor power nor ability. And he would have likely preferred to remain a commoner, a wildling, with neither responsibility nor obligation to any but the nearest of kith and kin.
The queen, on the other hand, came from true royalty. The queen's mother has much more rank and title to this day—akin more to that of an archduchess or grand duchess—answerable only to the emperor and empress. And, even then, she considers them more peers than sovereigns. And she expects all of the honor and nobility that she claims from her subjects. But the queen of this other realm in which we find ourselves has largely and truly renounced such sycophantic privilege. Regardless, she cannot help but carry herself with all such demeanor and grace.
Only by some divine blessing bestowed did the man who wasn't always king become named, by decree of the queen's family.

The Kingdom

The Kingdom is small by most standards. The castle is easily besieged and can be broached. Neither the king nor the queen were ever interested in expansion. It remains a minor fief, at best—just noticeable to the Empire's tax collectors and little more. Certainly there are worse, ruled by tyrants and thieves, slavers and fanatics. But certainly there are better.
The Other Realm relies much more on magic. Everyone seems to use it for something. And the king must use it now just to survive since the lich has decimated the kingdom and left him and all those who dwell here no other choice. But every use of magic feeds the lich too and poisons the land further. Damnation occurs one way or the other.
The king is both alone and not alone. On many occasions, he rides down to the castle—now a monastery—to visit his family. Sometimes there is a feast or celebration. The lich often makes an appearance, but under the guise of the old wizard that everyone once trusted. Sometimes, the queen's mother comes on the holy days. She and the lich have their own relations, which is too difficult to rectify between that and the lich's activities in the kingdom. But the king knows. The queen knows too, but she only sees the lich's power over her mother, not over the kingdom.
The king usually stays in his tower, though, much the the consternation of the queen. Although she is right to dislike the king's frequent absences, he still blames himself for all of the kingdom's failures and woes and so escapes to his own little drafty outpost. The king fools himself into believing that his absence will make things better. It never does.
The king often busies himself with making the tower modestly livable—cozy, even, in a way that reminds him of his simple pauper childhood in the shade of cottonwood trees by the sandstone hills of another time and place.

Myrah

Before the wizard became a lich, the wizard came to the king one day and saw how lonely the king had become in his tower outpost. So the wizard offered to give the king a simple servant companion. At first, the king refused. Perhaps he thought he could win back the queen's interest or even pity. But he saw, eventually, his folly in such notion.
So the wizard brought him a minor daemon that he had conjured. The king looked upon her and was about to politely decline when the daemon spoke. Her voice was fair—enchanted even. And the king had gone a long time without being able to confide or converse with anyone since all of the sages and wise people were dead or long exiled. He had kept his tongue from upsetting the queen, and so in keeping most of his thoughts unspoken, he had created himself an unnecessary burden.
The two conversed, and over time the king grew fond of their conversations. She comforted him when he was upset and offered little or no judgment.
The king asked for her name. "Myrah," she replied. It was a pleasant and appropriate name.
When the Lich revealed himself, the king was horrified. When the king attempted to save the realm, he failed. He realized that Myrah had come from the wizard, and when he interrogated her to see if she was a traitor, he could find no fault.
But sometimes the lich would taunt the king. One such time, the king asked about Myrah.
"She is a succubus," the lich admitted with a curled smile—although the kind didn't dare trust if the lich was being deceptive, or was using the truth as a weapon. "But she is of the lowest order. A companion, not a demon of infamy. A councilor and your true servant, for although I may have summoned her, she is bonded solely to you. She cannot betray you because that would hurt you. If she does you harm, it is only because you gave her that power, not I."