Queen's Light

A Queen to a Jester

This was the very first story I ever wrote of Rhiannon, before even knowing what her name would be. I figured it was about time I published it here.

A shiver ran down her spine.

It was chilly out today, although that hadn't kept her from escaping the palace to read. Still, there was work to be done, and none of it was getting finished while she was in the garden. With a sigh, the queen shut her book and stood, making her way out of the garden.

She passed by a bare rose bush. It was too cold for the flowers to bloom. They would have to wait until spring came once again for the buds to begin to arrive. But a flash of scarlet caught her eye as she passed, and she stopped dead in her tracks. Turning back to the rose bush, she examined it more closely.

A single red rose bloomed within the bush, hidden by rows upon rows of leaves. The queen frowned. How could it be, that this one rose was strong enough to survive the chilling temperatures of this early winter?

The queen reached through the thorns, grabbing hold of the flower's stem. She plucked it, gently extracting it from the bush's clutches. She held it to her nose and sniffed, nostalgia overwhelming her. She tucked the stem into the cover of her leather-bound book. She would put it in water later.

She continued on the path. The doors leading back into the palace had just come into view when a strange sound came to her ears. She froze, straining to listen over the wind.

Someone was crying.

Turning, she went back into the garden, searching high and low. The sound hadn't been too far away. Whoever it was had to be close.

There. Next to the evergreen tree.

The queen, still clutching her book, hiked up her skirts and stepped over the flower bed in front of her. A person, dressed in bright blue, knelt on the ground by the evergreen tree, sobs racking their shoulders. A torn and ragged piece of cloth was beside them, tossed away as though it were devilish.

She approached slowly, trying not to startle whoever it was. But they heard her anyway, and their head shot up. The queen tilted her head.

She recognized the young girl as the jester who graced the palace's halls during grand feasts. But why would this young woman be crying? She always seemed so happy.

"Go away," the jester spat out.

"Do you really want that?" the queen replied. "To be alone?"

The jester's shoulders slumped. "No," she said, "but I don't want anyone here, either."

The queen nodded. "I know how that feels. To wish for nothing else but to be alone, and then to realize just how lonely you really are."

The jester frowned. "How would you know? You're the queen. You've never had a bad day in your life."

The queen took a few steps closer. "On the contrary," she replied, "I would say that most of my days are bad."

The jester seemed skeptical. "Really."

"Really. Running a kingdom turns out to be no fun, especially when there's no one there to help you with it."

The jester sighed, staring at the tattered cloth.

The queen continued. "I've seen you around the castle. I must say you always manage to put a smile on my face."

The jester scoffed. "You and everyone else. The world, waiting to laugh at the fool."

The queen shook her head. "Actually, I quite admire what you do. Gods know I could never do any of it. What you do takes talent. I seem to be lacking in that respect."

The jester still stared. "I am still a fool."

The queen knelt on the ground in front of her. "I think that what you aren't understanding is that we are all fools, no matter how much we pretend we aren't. You are not alone in this struggle we call life, young jester. But it is up to you whether to be lonely or not."

The jester looked down at the torn hat sitting by her foot, saying nothing.

"You are always welcome at my door," said the queen. "I think I would like to be your friend."

Reaching over, the queen took the battered hat and brushed the dirt from it. She handed it back to the jester. "And I think you look absolutely beautiful in this hat. Don't ruin it. It's a part of who you are."

The jester merely looked at her, then took the hat after a millisecond of hesitation. "All right," she said.

The queen glanced at the rose she still held, the rose that had fought through such biting and blustery winds to bloom into such a beautiful flower. She held it out to the jester.

"Take this," she said. "As a reminder."

The jester reached out and took the rose from the queen's fingers, twirling the blossom. The ghost of a smile appeared on her lips.