The Wish

The young queen was lying back against an old tree. Though her eyes were fixed at the dusking sky, they were fixed at nothing. Her mind was lost in a whirling ocean of rushing memories. Little by little the memories took proper form, and without even realizing it she began remembering the first years of her life. A tear crept down her cheek.

Her memories took her to the lonely years of her childhood. Her mother had died giving birth to her and her father was a feared warmonger king who was always on the battlefield, declaring war over the smallest provocation. All the other nobles’ were afraid of her father and had done their best to stay away from him and his castle, and thus she had never been able to enjoy the company of other children. She remembered spending most of her time playing alone with her beautiful dolls, Alicia and Victoria. She, however, did not miss not having friends. For you to miss something, you must have had it before, she thought.

Her memories rushed a few years forward, when she exchanged her dolls for books and weapons. She had learned from her father everything about war. She had thought that maybe, and just maybe, if she proved her worth her father would love her. The king, though, never showed her any sign of affection despite her efforts to please him. She had tried hard day and night to become what her father wanted, yet he had remained emotionless.

With the years, she had learned to be as ruthless and cold as her father. It was, however, just a mask. A mask she had expected it would hide her emotions from her impassive father. She didn’t know at that time how much that mask would become attached to her.

It was on a rainy day that she realized it. She was standing amidst countless bodies. Next to her lay the king, his body as cold as the thousand others that were scattered all across the field. A massive wound on the chest had taken the fearful king’s life. It was ironic, she thought, that all of her life she had tried to get from him any sign of love at all, yet now that she was standing next to her dead body, she could feel nothing. In the end, the mask she had devised had become her true identity.

She became queen shortly after that incident despite her young age and the disapproval of the other nobles. In order to raise some respect from them, she followed her warmonger father’s steps and kept on waging war on neighbor countries. Her tactical genius and combat prowess lead her and her armies to countless victories.

It was then when she first knew what it was like to be loved. Thanks to her numerous conquests and the wealth they brought, her people praised and loved her. The other nobles would respect her and treat her as nice as they’d never done before. Whenever she went she would be acclaimed. Her name was forged into the most beautiful songs and tales.

The young queen thought for a moment she was happy.

She smiled ironically at that memory. If only I’d known better.

Her memories rushed forward once again, this time to darker times. Her impeccable victory record was soon broken. The queen’s army fought with an enemy from the north too tenacious and too large to be beaten. What once started as minor defeats turned quickly into the decimation of her armies. The defeated queen and the remaining troops returned home, where word of her battles had already arrived.

Instead of meeting with a supportive realm, her people scorned her. The contempt of her people was a low blow to her already diminished moral. The young queen realized the hard way that the so-called love her subjects had professed her in the past was a fake.

The memories of the queen rushed yet again forward to a few hours ago. Her memories, although fresh, were blurry by everything that had happened. She remembered walking aimlessly around the royal gardens while trying to devise a strategy that would defeat the northern enemy. She had had a rough day in court, facing derision and disdain from the other nobles; all she desired was to get away from the castle and back to the only place she felt comfortable in: the battlefield.

An old man clad in silver armour appeared, followed by four well-armed soldiers. The bald old man was the captain of the royal guard, one of the few persons she trusted. A trust ill-placed, she thought as soon as she realized the motives of the man: A Coup.

Her memories became even blurrier. She recalled vaguely the soldiers trying to arrest her and she escaping from the garden after killing in one swift, hazy movement one of them. On her way out she had stricken down mercilessly at least a dozen soldiers and the old captain of her guard who had tried to stop her as she had gone into the forest that stretched just next to the castle.

Her memories became clearer as she was recalling blundering through the thick woods. She had seen an old elm bathing in the most delicious sunlight in the middle of a small hill. She had stumbled her way to the tree and had lied back against it. A warm feeling that had grown on her chest made her fall into a slumbering stupor.

It was only the rushing memories that had started her journey through her life the one who made her regain consciousness. And with it, pain came as well.

The queen took her hand to her chest and realized the warm feeling that had made her drowsy was caused by a deep wound. Although she didn’t know how, she was sure it had been the old captain the one who had delivered the fatal blow.

She stared at her blood-stained hand and began to laugh maniacally. Then, the laughter turned into sadness as she exchanged laughs for tears and weeps. And so she cried, until she felt her numb body going cold.

Once again the memories of her life rushed through her mind and she felt empty. Although she had had almost everything since the moment she was born, she realized she was missing the most important thing in the world.

All of her life she had been alone. She had never known the meaning of friendship or true love. Her experiences with her father and her people had taught her that such feelings were nothing more than a fantasy, a fairy tale, a sign of weakness.

Yet, for someone reason beyond her understanding, she longed for them. Now that the end seemed near, she desired for someone to be with her. Someone she could hold on to and fight the fear that was creeping on her heart. Someone she could have relied on during the rough moments of her life. Someone she could have laughed with. Someone she could have loved.  

She mustered her remaining strengths and spoke, as loud as her fainting voice would allow her. “I wish I wouldn’t be dying alone…” 

As the sun disappeared behind the horizon, so did her life vanished from her body; her dying wish echoing still strongly on her fading mind.