Time, passed

Time may heal all wounds, but the amount of time is yet to be known.

Gingerly, she made her way through the fallen remains of what was once a mighty castle.  Tenderly she tip-toed through the great dining hall that had witnessed the glory of grand feasts, now an empty chamber, save for the many magnificent musical instruments that now lie in decay. 

 

The King and Queen's abode, where sons and daughters were born and raised and frolicked in the rich ambiance of their parent's shelter and love.  So much now lay in ruin, that she felt a sense of indecency in her observation of their loss. 

 

The Queen had died a brief decade before.  Her personal affects remained untouched, as her soul quietly wept through the walls, as well as the many works of art she had placed upon them.  The exact spot where her spirit took flight stood in silence.  She would not dare to approach that spot.  She could not lay her hands upon the neatly folded, tiny dresses, packed gently away in drawers, in which the Queen had dressed her princesses.  Nor could she look upon the mobile the Queen had made from the tiny slippers of her baby boys.  She could not look into the mirror that rested above the Queen's bed, nor the broken one that fell from the wall as a result of her passing.  

So great was the loss of the Queen, that the rear wing of the castle had fallen away.  Attempts had been made to repair it, but the lamentations of the Queen's soul would not allow.  The angel of death had wrought his destruction upon the place, so that only debris and decay could survive under it's crumbling roof.  Even the beasts took ill with mysterious ailments that could not be cured. 

 

No one dared lay a hand upon the devil's work, and she knew that she could not do so, either.  The power of 7 times 7 would be thrust upon her if she tried, and the gods on their celestial throwns would abandon her with curses. 

 

She placed herself on bended knee and pleaded to the walls to set their spirits free, so the King and his children could be joyous, once again, and their castle could regain it's regal stature.  The answer was silence, cold and still.  The loss was too great for such a plea to be granted. 

 

Yet, she washed a dish or two and gathered up a small bit of debris, in hope that her small gestures might go unnoticed and be forgiven.  Her powers were weak, and she entertained no thoughts of restoring what had been wrought asunder.  She quietly listened as the walls spoke with the Queen's voice - "You may tidy up a bit, little one, to ease the King's suffering, but think not to disturb my restless slumber."      

 

And so it was, that little by little, she sought to clear away the rubble, one scrap at a time.  She was ever mindful of the Queen's legacy, and sought only to honor her from the proper stature of a chambermaid, serving one's Lord and Lady.