Awakened

The wooden door creeps open slowly, hesitantly, and a woman peeks in shyly. She is a traditionally beautiful woman, with a slender, rather petite frame, creamy fair skin, wide hazel eyes and rich long blonde hair. She has on a simple yet elegant day gown of a deep shade of purple edged in ivory lace, with matching slippers on her feet. Her hair is piled artfully on her head. Diamond and gold jewelry grace her ears, hands and neck. She has no need of makeup and so wears none.

Upon her appearance, the therapist, sitting behind the desk in the far corner of the neutral-colored room, looks up and smiles. He has kind eyes of a faded blue and graying brown hair that is in its customary state of disarray.

"Welcome back, Your Majesty," he says warmly, coming to a stand. "Do come in." A brief frown flickers across her face before she takes a hesitant step forward.

"Um...thank you...," the queen says in her soft, melodic voice. She comes into the room fully, gently shutting the door behind her. There is an uncertainty in her movements that the therapist notices every time he sees her. He doesn't move toward her, but instead waits patiently for her to cautiously approach the comfortable, facing twin brown armchairs that they'd sat in during their previous session. She comes to a stand in front of the worn brown armchair that she'd sat in before. Fisting her hands in the skirt of her dress nervously, she looks up at him expectantly.

The therapist picks up his sheaf of blank vellum pages that he'd had bound together to form a small book of sorts, quill and ink pot.

"Please, have a seat," he says with a small wave of the hand holding the book. She does, and only when she is settled does he take his seat in the armchair opposite hers at a respectful distance.

"I was concerned that you would not return, Your Majesty", he begins conversationally.

She flinches almost imperceptibly.

"Call me Talia, please," she practically begs. "Do not call me that." The therapist leans back in his seat and studies the young lady.

"Why are you not comfortable with your title, Talia?" he asks carefully. He keeps his tone low and soothing, well aware that the young queen was in a fragile state. There is a suspended moment of silence as she ponders the question.

"I am not sure, sir," she answers finally.

"That is alright. How are your twins?" the therapist replies, smoothly changing topic. Talia relaxes a bit, the ghost of a smile dancing at the corners of her full lips.

"Lune has started piano lessons. He stays in the music room for hours trying to play all the scores he can get his hands on. He's very good at it - certainly more talented with music than I can remember being when I was his age."

"And Soleil?" the therapist prods when she falls silent. Talia looks away from him and shifts uncomfortably in her seat, all previous signs of relaxing gone.

"She's fine," she mumbles. The therapist waits for a beat before speaking again.

"Why are you uncomfortable talking about your daughter?" he asks her.

"I'm not," she replies stiffly.

"Well then, tell me more about your girl," he challenges. He has a feeling that there is something deeper here that she needs to uncover before they can move forward. Talia clears her throat softly, her hands tracing random patterns on her dress' skirt across her lap.

"Soleil is loved by everyone. My husband especially adores her - she's beautiful, he says; perfect because she is the epitome of everything that is good and wonderful in both of us. She has become a cheerful, lively child. She's so loud." Talia looks up at the therapist, annoyance reflected in the depths of her hazel eyes.