In Ilireas's castle the High Queen Nasuada retired in her chambers. But who knows what she whispered to the darkness, and what kind of secrets she hid behind her closed doors? Who knows what shadows and dreams slipped through her hands?

Dedicated to BrightWatcher whose poetry has inspired this short-story.

"My soul is in the sky."

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

~Pablo Neruda (Sonnet XVII)

A Midsummer Night's Dream.

The sun had already set, the dusk became darkness, and the hours wore far into the evening. In Ilirea's castle the High Queen retired in her chambers exhausted beyond belief because of her endless tasks during the spent day. Her maids helped her take off her jewelry and her heavy, royal attire; all of them signs of her power and authority in the eyes of the commoners and nobility. The Queen, free from her heavy garments and dressed only in a thin nightgown, gave orders to the women of her escort to withdraw so as she would be left alone. As the precious jewels and clothes were kept in a nearby, secret chamber, the Queen came out on the balcony of the royal quarters and leaned over the railing.

The night was warm that evening – a Midsummer Night full of wonders – and gave her the impression that everything could possibly happen. The aromas of the night-blooming garden reached up to her balcony filling her lungs, and waking in her senses new-found excitement. The sky hanged over her with a plethora of flickering stars. The soft and sweet night breezes brought from the far east distant odors of the elven forest, strange fragrances of the exotic plants, and the pine resin. The Queen sighed, closed her eyes and let her mind wander away. Her thought ran across the courtyard of the castle, passed by the dark streets of the sleeping city, and slipped out through the locked gates of the walls. It traveled farther from the surrounding fields, flied over the hills and rivers, the lakes and the thick woods. The heaths and wastelands of the north were not enough to restrain her yearning, nor even the untrodden, snow-covered hillsides, where the ice would never melt.

The Queen's heart pounded hard in her chest, as with the eyes of her imagination she could see ...

… a cave, hidden among some gray rocks, the soft glowing of a flickering flame, red glints reflected around the walls … and … the figure of a lonely man seated in front of the fire …

Suddenly, a magic veil enveloped everything around her, and the Queen sensed a presence behind her. With bated breath she felt the soft touch of a mind brushing lightly against her own. Her voice was lost in the depths of her throat, as she recognized this intellect ... distant yet familiar ... an intellect she had secretly longed for. Two strong hands grabbed her shoulders and the Queen shivered. The touch was firm, yet gentle. She felt a breath against her neck, two lips almost touching the curve of her half-necked shoulder. Persistent fingers tangled among the locks of her hair and as she was turned around abruptly, she found herself looking in a pair of steely eyes reflecting the beams of the midsummer night's moon.

'… You! … it's you … here …'

'… you've called me … and here I am …'

She felt his hot breath next to her ear, as he whispered her name. His hands slipped down to the small of her back, possessively pulling her to his chest. His demanding lips set his kiss as a seal upon her neck, and the Queen shivered. She felt his touch like a fire burning under her skin as his lips descended boldly over her uncovered shoulder. The starlit sky above the Queen disappeared, and the scents of the garden replaced the sour and salty smell of the male sweat that pierced her nostrils. The very next moment she found herself lying on her back in her royal bed, his body weight pressing on her chest, leaving her out of breath. Before his lips sealed hers with a kiss, she had time enough to tell him just one word ...

'…why? …'

'… you know why! …'

… and the struggle started. The shadows in the room thickened, as the night candle faded discreetly. The pale moonlight, spilled on the white sheets, stained them with silver hues as their two shadows fought at the opposite wall, who will give and who will receive the most kisses. The decent Queen stayed out of the chamber; on the royal bed remained the woman descended from the wandering tribes. The young woman whose blood was ablaze as if from the burning sun of her distant homeland. But it was his touch that has kindled this fire.

As his lips trailed kisses down to her soft bosom, Nasuada attempted one final, ineffective effort to find her logic. She tried in vain to avoid the man's claim on her that she longed for and feared, at the same moment. It was not the man who had come to find her; she had been the one who had reached for him and had called him. And as his demanding kiss on her lips deepened the woman was enticed. Shortly before dawn the Queen succumbed. Captive in the male embrace she surrendered offering the sweet nectar that quenched the desire from his thirsty, craving lips. Her slender fingers tangled among his shaggy hair as she closed her eyes breathing faster, whispering his name.

The day dawned with a cloudless sky, and the Queen woke in her rumpled bedding. The midsummer night had faded, hidden behind the curtain of the sun's new-born rays. As the first light of the new day was battling against the shadows of the spent night, the dream faded too and stayed hidden in the depths of her heart. The spells of the Midsummer Night had been dissolved and the Queen was once again alone. Her thoughts turned to the many obligations she has taken upon herself, more than she could deal with. As she stood up to start her preparations for the new day that had arrived, she gave a daydreaming glance at the balcony of the royal chamber, and she sighed deeply ...

'... farewell, my love ...'

… she whispered.

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream ...

~Shakespeare (A Midsummer Night's Dream)

Thanks for reading.