I was scrolling down Tumblr with a tired thumb and heavy eyes when a notification popped up at the top of my screen.
Shouldn't you be sleeping?
Annoyance bubbled up. I sighed, and tapped the message. A chat with my best friend opened. Above the conversation, a little sign told me he was currently online.
Are you now watching me too, Challa?
As usual I was too lazy to type his entire name.
I was just checking… accompanying the words was a blushing emoji, followed by one looking rather satisfied with himself.
I replied with an angry devil. He responded with a laughing face.
But seriously, you should be sleeping. I didn't need any picture now to imagine the stern look he would've given me if he had been here in person.
Who says you didn't wake me?
Somehow I don't believe that. Will you sleep if I say please?
I smiled a tired smile.
Maybe… now it was me who send the self-content smiley.
Please…? Angel with halo.
Sigh.
Fine…
You're tired, aren't you?
Nooooooo… blushing face.
Laughing emoji again. Good night.
Bye… sleep tight… floating zzz's
Sweet dreams… little princess

For approximately three seconds, I held my finger on the power button, until I got the shut-down menu, asking me what I wished to do. I selected "Shut Down". My phone now wondered if I was absolutely certain, if I truly wanted that.
'Yes,' I muttered to the tiny computer. 'King's order.'
This time the phone gave no objection. After the screen went blank, it's mechanical insides stopped.
With a lot of effort I reached out and put it on the bedside table, before I rolled over, drew the blankets a bit closer, and squeezed my eyes shut.
O, yes. The pillows were cushy. The blankets cosy. The mattress perfectly balanced between soft and solid. I was ready for a good night's sleep.

'Your highness…' Urgent whispering. A voice piercing through my dreamless sleep. 'Your highness, wake up, please!' The whispering went on, growing louder, and even more urgently.
I groaned softly. Why did they wake me? Hans Janson, my father's advisor (and the person who made sure I made it to classes and official happenings) was usually the one acting as my alarm clock. This voice, however, was female. More importantly, it was unknown to me.
'Please, your highness, you need to wake up!' only now I had woken up enough to realise the urgency was tinted with desperation. So curious to the cause, I opened my eyes.
A maid was standing by my bedside, holding a bathrobe in slightly trembling hands.
'Please, come, highness. Sir Janson wishes your presence in his office.'
Were there tears in her eyes? My brains were still trying to make sense of this all, while I was already helped into the robes. Uncomfortably I wrapped it very close around me.
The maid then swiftly guided me towards Janson's room, even though I had gone there often enough by myself. During the journey I rubbed my eyes a lot, and blinked a lot. The entire palace seemed to be up and awake, at midnight. Footsteps echoed all around us - quick, hasty footsteps. Accompanied by rough yet muffled voices. Something must be terribly wrong.
Yet, all I could think of, was going back to bed; my brains were sponges, my body a doll controlled by a slightly drunk puppeteer. Indeed, I do not fare well without proper sleep.

The blubbery mess that was my brain was suddenly very interested in the little doodles on the walls. Not really doodles, though, paintings. Brightly coloured works of art, even in the gloom of these early hours.
There were waves and little ships. Waves that washed ashore, on a yellow beach. The yellow beach turned into orange dunes. Then trees popped up between the sandy hills, eventually overgrowing them completely, and the forest had conquered the openness.
Between the thick trees and their branches, a hard wooden door appeared. The woman beside me, knocked.
Janson's voice answered - he told us to come in. Maybe it was the thick would distorting his voice, but to me he sounded very distressed. Worse, even; he sounded beaten.
'Princess,' Janson greeted me with a stiff nod when I shuffled into his brightly lit office. Bottles of lightning flashed back and forth in my eyes, causing a light headache in the back of my skull, before I got used to the light.' Please, sit down, your highness.' Even without the think wood in between us, his words were empty - like his eyes. A sick, uneasy feeling spread in the pit of my stomach. I was having a dejavu, a bad one. Dark memories rose up from shadowy depths I had tried to bury them.
'Janson, what's going on?' my voice shook, almost even broke.
Please, highness. Please, sit down.' He gestured towards the chair in front of his desk, in which I took place, my hands shaking and clamped around the cord of my robe.
'Janson?'
The advisor looked at his hands. His long, thin fingers pressed together. His lips also pressed together, before he opened them to speak the words that shook my world.
'Princess… I am… I am deeply sorry to inform you… however, this night, the king, your father, passed away.'

A nightmare. Of course. That was it. My brain had taken a memory, twisted it, altered it slightly, and returned it to my unconscious mind. My stupid, unoriginal brain imploding, trying to self-destruct.
'Princess?' I gave no answer. Instead I was staring into the distance. I thought, that if I concentrated hard enough, I could wake myself up.
'Princess?' He was worried. He was worried about me. Well, I was alive, wasn't I? Healthy? In this palace, like he always wanted? It was my father he needed to worry about, it was my father who was dead - no, no! He wasn't. All this was just a dream.
People tried to talk to me. People talked to one another. People talked about me. But I stayed where I was. Seated. Frozen like a statue. A marble statue; cold; not moving; not thinking. My hands twiddled with my bathrobe. My royal bathrobe.
I would wait. Until I woke up.

Eventually quietness came upon the room. Though there still were voices whispering, they spoke very few words. Despite the tiredness, my ears caught pieces of the ongoing conversation.
'He's coming. We immediately called him. His plane is almost here.'
'His place has landed. He's almost here.'
'He's arrived.'
'Elissa.' Finally different voice. A voice I was willing to listen to.
'Ssh,' I whispered. 'This is a dream. I have to wake up. Don't talk to me.'
'Elissa… I understand you want to think that… but you don't. I know you don't.'
'T'Challa…' why did he have to come tell me the truth?
'Elissa, come. Please.' Warm hands gently forced me to stand up, and move, and walk, and then sit down again. I was back in my own room now, sitting on my bed. T'Challa was sitting next to me, trying to make me look into his eyes.
'It is going to e all right, okay?' he said, calmly. 'You are going to be fine, I promise.'
My lips were shaking. My throat was aching. My eyes were watering. Still, I looked up, trying to keep myself together. But when I eventually spoke, it was the desperate child inside me speaking, not my determination to stay strong.
'But he promised me he wouldn't leave,' I squeaked, before I lost it and drowned myself in sobs and tears.