“If two people are meant to be together,
they will eventually find their way back into each other's arms...
no matter what.”
Unknown, from Pinterest
Once upon a time, an aging queen sat upon her throne remembering the days of her youth. Today the kingdom would be celebrating the sixty-fifth anniversary of her birth. She could recall the faces of so many, though time may have shrouded the memories of their names. For some names she could not clearly remember the faces. But there were a few for which both face and name remained as sharply etched upon her mind as if by the point of a diamond.
One face, one name was of that clarity, yet she still reached beside her for the small, weathered leather album she'd collected from the sanctity of her personal chamber. Opening the cover, she allowed her eyes to gaze lovingly upon the antique image of a young troubadour that gazed back at her through eyes she remembered as being rich sparkling brown with the arrogant, irreverent humor that had belied a heart of kindness and honor. Her heart filled with the same love and longing she had felt then. Though her face was lined and snow seemed to sit among her once vibrant auburn tresses, in her soul she was sixteen again and he a strong man of twenty-one. She could still hear his voice. Smell his special scent. Where was he now? Did he yet live? She traced the arch of his brow, angled upward in a faintly sardonic manner.
“Your majesty?” a strange ancient voice asked, breaking her reverie, and she looked up in surprise. No one had been announced into her presence and the voice was unfamiliar.
“Yes?”
Looking into the faded brown eyes, she felt a surge of surprised recognition fill her, though his face was unknown to her. Who was he?
“Your majesty,” the old man croaked, “I have come to offer you a boon. A gift of transcendent time.”
The old creature withdrew an ornate golden hand mirror from the gray rags of his robes.
By this time the queen was completely nonplussed. Such audacity should have had the immediate calling of the royal guards, yet she hesitated.
“I do not understand, sir.”
“Might I approach, your majesty?”
She acquiesced with a regal nod and the old man approached. As he did so she was startled to feel an odd power emanating from him. He offered her the mirror.
“If your majesty will look upon the mirror, she will know her most cherished desire.”
As if without volition, the queen took the mirror, once again met the old man's eyes, then looked into the mirror. For a moment she saw only her own reflection with its lines and snowy hair. Then she felt herself pulled into the image. Dizziness assailed her as lights passed by her in a quickening blur. She felt unconsciousness overcome her and the lights disappeared.
When the queen awoke, she found herself beneath an old oak. It's hard, heavily ridged trunk propped her up and its gnarled branches above her were sprouting new growth. In the distance, she heard the music of recorders and lutes, along with human voices raised in celebration.
Looking down, she realized in dismay that she was wearing the gowns of a high ranking peasant and rich auburn locks fell wildly to her waist.
“Greetings, my lady.”
The masculine voice startled her so much that she sprang into a half-crouched position. Looking to one side, she found a handsome young man dressed in bright garb, a lute held in his hands as he smiled with amusement. Her heart skipped a beat. It was he!
“Theodore?” she gasped.
“Aye, my lady. 'Tis been a long while since last we met.”
“But...!”
“Question it not, my lady,” he warned, and gave a quick strum of the lute strings, “lest the magic be broken.”
“Magic?”
“Aye.” He cocked his head to one side. “Though I do not recall your being so hesitant of speech.”
She thought of the long discourses she had been forced to make of late then remembered a time long ago when her tongue had seemed tied within her mouth.
“I do not understand, Sir...”
He shook his head.
“Ah, no, no!” he interrupted and wagged a long, elegant finger at her. “I was once Theo to you.”
She felt herself blush for the first time in decades.
“And so you are. How is this so, Theo?”
He shrugged and began to strum the lute softly.
“I do not question it, my lady Daphne. I only accept the gift for what it is.”
“I, too, accepted such a gift. A mirror.”
“Like this?”
He withdrew an ornate hand mirror from the sack beside him. It was a precise match to the one she had been holding but moments ago.
“Yes, it was. Is. Oh, I do not know what I mean!”
“Like myself, mayhap you should not question our good fortune.”
“Good fortune?”
“Aye. To find one another again, and mayhap to correct a grievous wrong.”
“And what wrong would that have been?”
“For the two of us to be bound in life as we have always been in heart and spirit.”
She looked down, her heart once again feeling the sadness of long ago.
“I do not know how that can be, Theo. We are no different now than we were then.”
“Are we not?” He began once again to strum the lute as he began to sing:
“A lady born
A bastard bred
A queen to be
A troubadour led
Down a path
To a mayday bower
Brought together again
Through love's
Secret power.”
She smiled sadly as she met his eyes.
“I do so wish it can be, Theo.”
“And why can it not?”
“I am a queen with...”
“Not today, you are not.”
She suddenly understood the truth of his words.
“No,” she whispered softly, “I am not.”
“Our fate lies in our hands at this moment.”
“But my kingdom...”
“Has a new prince.”
Her eyes widened.
“A new prince? There is no prince!”
“Aye, this day there is. His elder sister will no longer be crowned queen.” He strummed the lute dramatically then began to play softly again. “If she so desires it.
“A princess must choose
Between kingdom and love
Your choice, my lady,
Let joy fly as a dove.
Choose you now
Old fate for new?
Or strike out with me...”
The lute fell silent as his fingers stilled, and he gazed deeply into her eyes. The arrogance and humor were gone, replaced by uncertain hope. He seemed to lose track of his rhyme.
“Your eyes and your lips, as always are like morning's dew, drawing me...”
He learned forward and his lips brushed hers. Before drawing back but a whisper, where his breath fell upon them now damp from his kiss.
“Come with me, my love. Stay with me now. Accept the gift we are being offered.”
“But what shall we do?”
He smiled as he heard the acceptance in her reply.
“We shall make our merry way around the kingdoms, offering ourselves as proof of that which I sing.”
She raised one haughty brow.
“Of which you sing?”
He sighed then kissed her again.
“Ever the queen, I see. Alright then, of which we sing.”
She glanced toward the sounds of the joviality in the distance before looking back to him with a smile.
“Very well, Theo, I am no longer queen. The brother who did not exist will rise to the throne while I will...”
He kissed her again then set aside his lute to pull her atop his lap. After another long, less than chaste kiss, he then set her aside and rose to his feet. With a gallant hand, he pulled her up beside him.
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Once upon a time, an aging queen sat upon her throne remembering the days of her youth. Today the kingdom would be celebrating the sixty-fifth anniversary of her birth. She could recall the faces of so many, though time may have shrouded the memories of their names. For some names she could not clearly remember the faces. But there were a few for which both face and name remained as sharply etched upon her mind as if by the point of a diamond.
