She
had to go through with it. Somehow, some way she had to find the
courage to do what was needed. What she was destined to do; what she
was born to do.
“Ma’am? Madam…it is time.”
But
how? How was she supposed to say goodbye to all of this? How was she
supposed to say goodbye to Richard, Natalie, little Baby Em…oh, how
her heart ached just thinking of sweet Baby Em. Those innocent violet
eyes, so loving, so trusting…and that was why she was here, wasn't it? Why she
had to go through with it. If she wanted to save Baby Em and all
those she loved, if she wanted to save the lives of everybody, all
those who had been and all those who will be. If she wanted this
world to continue existing, she would have to do what she was
destined to do all her life. And now it was time.
“Yes,
Ronald dearest. It is time”
Jocelyn lifted her long, white,
thin gown and walked towards the doors, stopping at the threshold she
took a last glance at her room and out through the large domed
windows at a dying world. A barren, brown world of sand and rock and
dust. A world where volcanoes poisoned the air and coloured the sky
dark, red and murky brown. There had been another downpour of
ash-rain last week. The entire city had worked nonstop to clean it
up for today's ceremony.
“Which balcony will I greet the
people from, The Royal balcony or the temple one?”
She
raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her mentor as she glided past him.
Her features serene, a fixed half smile upon her lips. Large solemn
green eyes scanning the hallway up and down, always alert and
prepared for the unexpected. For those who didn’t know her as well
as he, she seemed as usual; forever calm and serene, like a proper
queen ought to appear.
“The one at the temple, my Lady,”
Roland replied and held out his left arm to let her take the lead,
then followed five paces behind, taking up the gown's train,
surreptitiously scanning the surroundings for potential danger.
She was Roland’s beloved queen Jocelyn, had been his charge
and student for almost three centuries. His heart bled for her, she
knew. Even though others could not see it, it was there in his eyes.
The pain, and the guilt. She knew he was able to see the telltales of
her crying, because no amount of makeup could hide it from him.
Through centuries of
unrest, warfare and biological disasters, he had tried. He had always
known; she believed he had known from the day he laid eyes on her,
that she was different and in some ways special. That destiny - no,
destinies - flowed around and about her. History waiting to happen,
or never to happen at all. He had prepared her for this, although for
3 whole centuries now, he had worked very hard for this never to
happen, for this day never to take place. He had failed. As he had
told her he would. He never quite accepted it. He still couldn’t,
but with this last development, there could be no other way.
He did at last officially
accept that he had failed. Deep down she knew he still firmly
believed there was another way, but they had failed to find it. And
for this reason, he had asked her to kill him, had begged her
actually. He; the Master of History and his Queen’s Master of
Protocols; the always correct and seemingly cold-hearted man of
proper protocol, tradition and reason, he had begged on his knees,
sniveling like a little boy who’d been caught stealing from the
kitchens. Begged to be killed, to be allowed to die and never having
to experience what was about to happen.
Jocelyn stood before
the balcony entrance; she inhaled deeply, blew out air and stepped
through. An avalanche of sound cascaded against her senses, people
cheering and then as the deafening cacophony of cheers ebbed out,
singing began. Softly at first until the song was all there was, all
she heard, all anybody could hear. She was glad she didn’t have to
speak; she doubted she was able of getting anything coherent past the
lump in her throat. She let her gaze take it all in; her castle, her
city - the last of her once so large peaceful, prosperous world. Her
people. Her daughter.
She turned her gaze slightly and there on the
balcony next to the one she was standing in, was her Baby Em. The
future Queen and protector of the world.
Emilie, whose violet eyes
reminded Jocelyn of Em’s father, Luke - the love of her life. He
had given his life so that Jocelyn could live and Em be born. She
felt a shiver coming and swallowed hard to stop the tears
threatening to start flowing. She took another deep breath and
quickly turned her gaze the other way, catching sight of Roland from
the corner of her eye. Roland, her protector, mentor and the closest
thing to a father she had ever known. She raised her hand in salute
and turned towards her Master of Protocol. No words were necessary;
they had already said all that was needed to be said. She knew this
was just as hard for him as it was for her, if not worse. After all,
he was the one who had to continue on after she was gone. He had told
her he had failed, begged her to let him die, but she could not allow
that. She needed him to continue living, to continue being for Baby
Em, what he had been for her. Prepare her for what was to one day
come. Continue searching for another way, another solution.
The crowd had turned
silent now. Everybody waiting, some in terror and fear, some with
hope, but nobody uttered a single word.
Jocelyn held her arms
out slightly and two maids caught her gown as she let it slide off
her shoulders, she rested her hand lightly on Roland’s shoulder as
she slipped out of her golden slippers, then she walked up the steps
to the dais built so that it looked as if it was hanging in the air
above the people. On the dais was the huge bronze gate. She walked
naked to the left side of the huge circular bronze sculpture to where
two bronze arms nestled a crystal ball in their bronze hands. As she
pressed her right hand over the ball, the sphere between the frames
of the gate cracked as if thousands of lightning bolts were trapped
within. She turned and faced them all one last time, and then with a
bow she turned and walked through.
Roland watched and thought
his heart would literally break apart. Then everything turned white.
He could see nothing but white, there was nothing but white noise in
his ears. Colors whirled past and with a loud “pop” he was
back on the balcony. The dais with the gate was gone, his queen was
gone. He turned around and with tears streaming down his face he
looked out upon a world in full bloom, a new world in late spring.
As
he stood watching, the cheers from the people rose up again.
Their Queen had done it; she had saved them all and given birth to a
new world full of life and hope. No trace of volcanoes were left. The sky was blue and clear. He breathed in and sighed. He looked down and there was Baby Em
wobbling towards him, giggling in her usual way. Bending down
catching her before she fell, he lifted her up in his arms
“There
you are, My Queen,” he said solemnly pointing his finger towards
the blooming new world “A new beginning, given to us all by your
mother’s sacrifice. Let us do our best to prevent you from ever
having to do the same, shall we?”
The otherwise giggling
toddler watched him with big serious eyes, then nodded once and gave
the kind old man a hug.
