My Queen, My Sword

A Moonlit Night

Askan tilted his head slightly to the left and examined the people in front of him. They didn't dare to look at him in the eye. They were shaking and he looked at them with a gleam in his eye. It would be so easy. A motion of his hand and his guards would do it for him. They still weren't looking at him. Why weren't they looking at him?  He stood up trembling and walked over to them. The man right in the front was a mere boy. He was shivering violently and this made Askan glad. He had power. So much power...

Askan woke up with a jolt. Breathing heavily he threw his covers off and made his way to the washing room. He splashed water on his face and willed himself to calm down. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand he draped a thick cloak and walked out to the balcony. It was a moonlit night and this made him feel peaceful. His gardens were beautiful and everything seemed to be illuminated. The light wind made the trees sway a little as if they were dancing to a tune nobody but them could hear.  It was so different than the turmoil going inside of him that he yearned to go and envelope himself in the night vanishing  with the twinkling stars which presided over the sky, who were the kings not him, mere mortal being.

 It was a night for magic, for beings who only existed in storybooks to peak out and remove the veil that removed them from the world. To clasp hands and to sing a merry tune. For captured moonshine, stolen heartbeats, the first clap of thunder and a laughter willfully given to be mixed together with the first ray of sunshine and drunk at dawn.

Askan smiled at his musings and then walked over to the painting that hung beside his bed. It showcased the fine powerful spirit in the sea and he marveled at its delicacy. He reached out and gently pushed its upper right hand corner. At once a click was heard and the painting swung open to reveal a door. He pushed it open and walked silently down the dusty staircase holding the lantern he had grabbed from his room. He surpassed many doors till he  reached one with an Lp engraved on it. Opening the locked door with a skeletal key he entered the room.

It was magnificent. There was no other words for it. The sky high ceiling had words written on it. Words he could not make out but they seemed to enchant him nevertheless. Shelves of books upon books of every single subject and various languages encircled the room. Books as fat as a trolls finger and as thin as a fingernail.  He had often spent various sleepless nights here. The kings before him had all added there contributions. There were letters and diaries which comforted him and made him feel not so alone.

Pulling out a book that looked quite interesting he returned to the staircase and continued down it. He soon reached the last door, blew out his lantern and cautiously opened it. Even though it led to into a sheltered grove he was careful. Once confirming that no one was about he stepped out gulping and reveling the feel of the cold night air on his face. The grove was thick but he could just make out the path which he followed out to the main garden. Grinning he half ran and half skipped letting all decorum and stiffness go. The smell of jasmine and honeysuckle,   which infused the night air, made him feel giddy. The bad dream and all his burdens seemed to be far far away. Right now he was not a king, not a man who everyone expected so much. Not a man who had so much blood on his hand.

He was just Askan. Who dreamed of impossible dreams. 

Reaching his favorite spot he settled underneath a humongous elm tree took out his book from his pocket and began to read...

                                                    ***********************************

The pins digging in her head made her want to commit murder. They were making her head throb and she felt like using them to scratch the mans face in front of her. Her father had given her a long lecture on how she had to behave and the she had been paraded in front of a long line of suitors none of whom could utter a single intelligent word. She wanted to scream at them that she was not a horse waiting in line to be bought. 

The smell of food made her mouth water. She was extremely hungry but the corset digging into her made that impossible. She huffed and then then ignoring her fathers glare she walked out of the room. Walking up the staircase Desdemona made her way to the massive library. It was gigantic room filled to the brim with books. It was her sanctuary and she often spent hours here. She walked to the window and looked out. 

It was a full moon outside and the light lit up the gardens. It was a night for adventures, a night full of mysteries that humans cannot derive. Suddenly she started running plucking a worn out book from the second shelf. She slid down the rail of the staircase ran out the massive doors of the mansion. The exotic plants that her father loved gave out a marvelous aroma. The air was delicious. No one seemed to be outside. They all preferred the stuffy ballroom. 

Idiots. All of them.

Desdemona dug all the pins out of her head and ran and ran and ran. She felt as if she was the wind, she was Zephyrus in disguise. She never wanted to stop. She wanted to reach those lands she read in books. The ones in which the impossible things became possible. She could reach out and hold the moon in her palm. She could do anything she wanted if she only dared. 

She sat down, plucked a flower, tucked it in her hair and began to read.