Elements of Glory: The Princess of Nothing

’Do you dream real things, or just dreams?’

-Emily asking Wilth about his dreams, five cycles ago

Emily slept well that night. She always slept best when it was raining. When she woke up it was still raining. During the night, her dreams had been full of shadows, with nothing tangible and nothing clear. Despite how well she slept, when she woke up, she was glad of it. Leaving her comfortable four-poster bed, Emily grabbed some clothes, went to her bathroom, and had a bath; before dressing and heading down to the kitchen for some breakfast.

On her way to the kitchen – taking a different path than usual – Emily found herself walking by the tall, wooden, doors that were inlaid with gold and silver, and bearing the crest of a majestic Griffin, holding a sword in one of his front eagle hands, and a dove in the other. The doors barred entrance to the throne room.

Emily had never been in the throne room. There weren’t very many things that Wilth outright forbade Emily from doing. He got sad when she did certain things, but most of those things he didn’t forbid her from doing. Some things he asked her not to do. But of three things that he’d ever forbade Emily, outright, from doing, entering the throne room was first among them.

Emily didn’t know why.

She stared at the tall doors, imagining her parents in the chamber beyond. She imagined it as a room larger than large, and longer than long, with three hundred gleaming chandeliers running from the door, to the raised platform at the end, where two crystal thrones were placed, tall and intimidating, upon which her parent sat and ruled. She imagined six hundred fireplaces lining the walls – three hundred on each side – and windows placed between each fire place. She imagined a long, red, carpet, and masses of people kneeling before the rightful rulers of the Weral Kingdom.

Emily stepped toward the wooden doors, reaching out with a hand, reaching out to touch the doors. She placed her hand on the silver and gold, running her fingertips across the smooth metal.

‘Twenty-two cycles ago,’ she whispered, repeating words Wilth had spoken to her more times than she could count – though of course through the last two decades the number of cycles since had always been different, what with Emily growing older and such – ’the Seven Kingdoms were Eight, and Weral sat atop all, and Weral was the chief capital of all the Kingdoms, and from here your parents ruled…’

Emily’s hand stopped at the very edge of a bit of silver, a hair away from the smooth wood that it bordered.

She sighed.

‘I wish I’d know them,’ she whispered. ‘I wish I’d had a family.’

Her fingertips touched the wood, and she felt the grains and the lines in it, deeper than she’d ever felt before. She felt strange, and, as she ran her fingers along the wood, trails of water were left behind. Emily she felt almost like she was drawing the water directly out of the wood.

She tried to pull her hand back, but before she could, she felt as if she’d been transported again. She saw herself in another place and time. She saw Wilth at the throne room doors, many rags and clothes were on the floor around him, and he was using a great blanket, lifted over his head, wiping water off of the door, while the wood continued to sweat large droplets.

As Emily stared on in dismay, she felt like she remembered this moment, as if she’d seen it before.

Then, as if proving the point, she noticed a young girl of about five cycles, walking toward Wilth. She wore a little blue and white dress, and carried a small doll in one hand. She was smiling, and Emily knew the smile.

It was her own.

The child was her!

‘Wilth, I want to play,’ little Emily cried, and her voice sounded echoed, like it was travelling a long distance.

Wilth turned quickly to Emily. ‘Get back!’ he shouted, and Emily winced at the same time her child counterpart did. ‘GET AWAY!’ Wilth shouted.

Everything started moving fast, and the next thing Emily knew, she saw her younger self sitting on the edge of her bed, Wilth was kneeling before her, and there was sadness in his eyes.

’I never want you to get hurt,’ Wilth said to little Emily. ’You know that don’t you?’

Little Emily nodded.

’I can protect you from many things, Emily, and I can teach you many things. Some things I cannot teach you. Some things I do not know. Other things I do not understand. But you must trust me, and on this you must trust me above all else: You must never enter the throne room, my dear child. I have to forbid it. Walk past it infrequently, and do not linger… never linger. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Wilth,’ Emily heard herself saying with the younger version of herself, and then everything sped up again, until she saw herself falling toward where she was presently standing, with her hand touching the wood of the throne room door.

Emily yelped as everything returned to normal, and she instantly yanked her hand away from the wood. She was shivering, and her hand was soaking wet. Breathing quickly, Emily looked at the spot where her fingertips had been, and watched water bleed away from her finger prints, which seemed to be permanently imprinted into the wood.

Emily stepped further back, and, after a few moments, the water stopped running away from her finger prints, though they remained, imprinted, undying. Staring in awe at the door, wondering what had happened, and what was happening to her, Emily turned and ran away from the throne room doors.

She ran until she felt she was far enough away. Then leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and caught her breath. When she had calmed enough, she steadied herself and continued on toward the kitchen for her breakfast.