Feeling sick to your stomach, you run what you wanted to say, what you should have said, through your head. If only you had explained this or that? If only you had another chance to put forward your case, to put everything into it’s fullest context.
Sadness passes over you, then inside a small voice of hope is faced by an army of anger and doubt, “we will defend this kingdom against your falsehoods” cries doubt, “you would speak kindness about those who will destroy us?!” cries anger. The small voice looks up helplessly, ever trusting at you, begging you to grant her freedom, to give her the opportunity to sow joy, even if only briefly.
What good is hope, only to be crushed? Better to be vanquished here inside, than vanquished by foreign forces. Better that we smother the child than let her be captured and raped.
Tears reach out in desperation, trying to avoid the inevitable descent from their ocular peaks. “Don’t let us fall” they cry, but it is too late.
The castle is surrounded and the siege is on. The garrison surrounds the child awaiting your instruction, to slaughter so beautiful a being to save her innocence, or to allow her hostage taking by alien powers.
Your heart ever wavering, you wish you could be firm, you hate that child so much in this moment, because you love her with your whole soul. There is no way you could order her death, your mouth tries to utter the command, but your heart rebels and steals your voice.
The enemy storms the gate, the castle falls, the child is taken, you are imprisoned in your own dungeon, pensively awaiting your fate. As they drag her off, she even now tries to give comfort. “I will petition my new liege for mercy, he may still grant you that which you desire, our love will never die, adieu!”
Rot in the dungeon of your own making, but do not blame the child.