Glimmer locked the door behind her, sealing herself away for the night. Finally, she got a moment to herself. She dragged her feet over to the sink and brushed her teeth while inspecting the dark rings under her eyes. It’s not as bad as it looks. It’s just the bad lighting here. You still look as lively and chipper as ever, she comforted herself. She nearly believed it.
The duties of a queen were many. Doubly so in wartime. Glimmer had no idea how much shit her mom was dealing with every day without her knowing. Everybody wanted something. Everybody needed something. Fucking everybody. She had to sign off on strategies. On disaster relief. Rebuilding plans and budgets. Dealing with finances and the treasury. Architects had ideas. Villagers had needs. And ideas. And empty stomachs. And sick people. And wounded people. The soldiers needed medics too. And new armour. And new recruits. The cooks needed instructions. What to make for the diplomats’ dinner. And what for the generals’ meetings. And what for lunch with the agriculture representatives meeting. And what for brunch with the Princess Alliance. Same with the decorators. All the choices had different meanings behind them, as was tradition. A queen can’t afford to insult someone by serving the wrong dish.
Heh. Fuck tradition, Glimmer thought, while spitting out toothpaste. She wished the dignitaries would also want to fuck tradition. But they seemed adamant in upholding it. They weren’t fond of the notion of someone changing the rules of the game they were playing. Besides, upholding order, tradition, and appearances kept the citizens of Brigthmoon at ease too. Even Glimmer saw the use in that. She rinsed off her face and finally teleported herself into her bed, which was hung from the ceiling.
Going out on missions with Bow and Adora had been easier. Make a plan, rush in, watch the plan go to shit, improvise, kick some ass, get out, celebrate or rant, depending on how it ended up going. Rinse and repeat. This was different. Even when alone in her room she couldn’t find a restful thought. Instead, only items on her to-do list kept popping up and away, occupying every inch of headspace they could find.
She had tried techniques to get all that under control. She was never any good at meditation. Glimmer was probably doing it wrong anyway, she understood that much, and be that as it may, it didn’t help. Writing down everything she had on her mind and working the list item by item helped a little since she could comfort herself into not feeling guilty for not thinking about some of it for a bit. But it didn’t do much for the few minutes of downtime she could afford before sleep.
She tried working out a schedule in her mind, a schedule of the next day, week, month, in an attempt to sort out everything she had on her mind. It made her feel better, it made her feel as if she had things under control. As if it was manageable. But she quickly learned the hard way that none of her schedules worked out as planned. And this time around, she couldn’t just fight, kick, bite, or teleport her way out of it. It just kept piling and piling.
Anything she didn’t finish today would wait for her tomorrow, patiently, like starving wolves waiting out a lone traveller who climbed a tree for safety. She could feel their hungry yellow eyes and their hunger to devour their prey alive fixated on her. People went hungry, cold, wet, sick, injured. Diplomats, functionaries and officials got annoyed and difficult. Soldiers got hurt and lost morale. Any misstep would cost her an arm and a leg.
The day’s exhaustion worked in her favour. You can’t be locked in with your thoughts for too long when exhaustion forces you into sleep. Even if it was a light, restless slumber, it was still a welcome respite.
Glimmer locked the door behind her, sealing herself away for the night. Finally, she got a moment to herself. She looked over at the sink on the right side of her room, and her eyes caught her toothbrush, exactly where she had left it this morning, waiting eagerly to be used. With a sting of guilt, she teleported herself directly onto her bed. Skipping brushing your teeth once every now and then can’t be that bad, she figured. She’d brush them in the morning, she promised herself.
It had been another shit day in a series of shit days. Bow and Adora hadn’t been as supportive as she had expected them to be. They had different ideas on how to proceed. They disagreed with Glimmer’s plans. Instead of supporting her, they joined the ranks of everybody else wanting and needing shit from her. They joined the ranks of shit she had to keep track of on her to-do lists, which contained an innumerable amount of shit items already.
Glimmer had trusted her friends to support her through all this queen and war business. Disagreeing with her felt not supportive at all. She knew they were trying their best and trying to do what they thought was right, but she couldn’t help but feel the cold sting of betrayal.
Despite being surrounded by people every minute of her day, Glimmer felt alone. How on Etheria did her mom deal with all this on her own for years? Glimmer didn’t let the thought linger on. She didn’t have the capacity to deal with Angella being gone right now. Not again. Instead, she went over the next day’s schedule while staring at the ceiling, until a knock on the door made her shoot up and stare at it like a deer hearing hunters approach.
“Glimmer, are you awake?” Bow called out from beyond the thick wooden door.
Glimmer tensed into a frozen state. She didn’t want to see him right now. She didn’t want to see anybody right now. Nor to be seen. She wanted to be alone. Alone, where she didn’t have to put up an act of the queen being on top of her game and having everything under control. Her heart was racing. She hadn’t turned off the lights. Would Bow figure her out? Could she get away with telling him tomorrow that she had fallen asleep with the lights on?
“I just… I just wanted to wish you a good night. But I guess you’re asleep, and I’m just talking to a door, so I’m gonna go now. Good night, Glimmer.”
Glimmer heard footsteps receding on the outside. Her shoulders sagged with relief, her fists unclenched their tension. Yet her heart was still relentlessly pounding. She could feel her pulse in her neck and through her ears. Relief turned into anger. Anger into rage. Her heart beat faster and faster.
Why the fuck can’t they just leave me alone for a fucking minute for fuck’s sake, she screamed internally. She was about to burst. But she couldn’t do it here, in her room. She had to keep up appearances. And nobody could know. So she teleported herself into the Whispering Woods.
The first place that came to mind was her and Bow’s old secret place, a small clearing not deep inside. They used to meet up at night there, back when they were kids and they sneaked out from home. Bow had just been knocking on her door, so she was certain to be alone there.
She screamed curses. Hit trees. Stomped her feet. Yelled until her voice was hoarse. Why the fuck did everyone decide to be a problem today. Why the fuck didn’t anything she tried work. At all. Why the fuck couldn’t she do anything fucking right. Why the fuck aren’t her friends there for her when she needed them. Why the fuck did her mom have to up and die and leave her with all of this fucking bullshit to deal with. On her own. Why the fuck do these fucking shitheads have to wage war all the fucking time. Aren’t they getting that they can’t win? That the Rebellion will never cease to fight? Why the fuck are they prolonging this unnecessarily?
She powered herself out completely with a long scream of pure frustration. Exhausted, she teleported herself directly into her bed and curled up around a pillow, falling asleep nearly instantly. Without turning off the lights.
Glimmer locked the door behind her, sealing herself away for the night. Finally, she got a moment to herself. She went over to the bathroom, looking at her pale self in the mirror and the inviting toilet bowl. She decided against it and teleported to her secret place in the forest instead, where she threw up immediately. She hadn’t eaten much that evening, so there wasn’t much to throw up aside from her stomach juices. It stung her throat and tongue.
Acidic stench replaced the fresh forest air. Her prolonged dry heaving annoyed her. The retching shot painful convulsions through her stomach muscles, but she didn’t mind them very much. Couldn’t she just throw up quickly and be done with it? Why must her body be so difficult at times? Still, she was a bit impressed with herself. She had managed to keep it all in for the entire day.
Seventy-two wounded. Fifty-two dead. The Horde had launched a new offensive. Which cost the Rebellion seventy-two wounded. Fifty-two dead. Fifty-two mothers and fathers and parents not returning home. All in just one morning. Fifty-two sons and daughters and children. Fifty-two brothers and sisters and siblings. Fifty-two not seeing another day. Fifty-two not singing songs around campfires. Fifty-two not seeing their children grow up. Fifty-two not reading the book they always wanted to. Fifty-two not planting seedlings in their garden come next spring. Fifty-two not seeing next spring. Fifty fucking two. And the number will keep rising. And that’s without counting for the dead soldiers on the Horde’s side. They too are people, like Adora. Glimmer threw up nothing again.
They told her about the unexpected attack in an urgent morning meeting. By late afternoon, the aftermath was known. All the while they kept rushing her from meeting to meeting. About useless jabber, as if there weren’t people dying at the front that very moment. She had had no time to panic or deal with it. Instead, Glimmer decided on a strategy some general proposed. Reinforce flanks, and send reserve troops to the front. As soon as the front was back under control, they’d send out more medics and roll out a systematic plan to find and evacuate whatever civilian hadn’t made it out of there yet. Glimmer was sure the generals and other high-ranking military officers were fucking psychopaths or sociopaths or whatever. Fifty-two dead didn’t seem to make a single dent in their mental state. No way normal people just get on with business as usual after hearing that fifty-two of their own died that morning. Fifty-two never cooking dinner again. Fifty-two never cooling off in the lakes and rivers during a summer heat. Fifty fucking two.
Glimmer had been numb and on auto-pilot the entire day. It made staying in control and keeping up appearances manageable, and she felt it was probably best to remain that way now as well. She teleported herself back into her room and brushed her teeth, hoping to get the taste of puke out of her mouth. It helped a little, but the sore throat and stomach muscles remained. She walked up to her suspended bed without turning off the lights. Leaving the lights on helped her get up in the morning, before first light. It didn’t help with the sleep though, but nowadays she never got a good night of sleep anyway.
That night was no different. Glimmer was woken from a dreamless sleep by her heart pounding as if she had sprinted up the stairs of Brightmoon’s tallest tower, gasping for air. She had sweat through her pillows and sheets as if she had been sprinting long distances. To top it off, she felt like throwing up again. But that wasn’t new. Glimmer was used to waking up in this manner by now, with feelings of drowning and failing and falling and being hunted by unseen pursuers, faceless problems that needed solutions this very instant, mocking her through their very existence. The urge to throw up as soon as she regained consciousness came along with all that garbage like a bonus a merchant throws in an attempt to sweeten a deal. She had woken up this way for the past few weeks, but despite being used to it, it annoyed her.
The clock on her wall told her that she couldn’t have slept for more than three hours. She was exhausted but wide awake, her heart still racing. There would be no more sleep for her that night, she figured. The sweat-drenched bedding wasn’t inviting either. So she dragged herself over to her desk to read over remaining reports, where she eventually nodded off, only to be awoken by the guards knocking on her door moments later, waiting to escort her to her first meeting of the day.
Glimmer locked the door behind her, sealing herself away for the night. Finally, she got a moment to herself. She barely noticed her hand shaking while trying to lock the door through the blurry tears in her eyes, which had begun welling up as soon as she had closed the door. She wiped them away as she teleported to her secret hideout in the woods, where she fell over on her arms and knees, on all fours, and tried to throw up. Nothing came out though. She was just heaving and convulsing uselessly in the dirt.
One hundred and fifty-five. One hundred and fifty-five dead.
Before, soldierts had died defending. Their homes, their friends, their families. They were being attacked by the Horde. But this time, Glimmer had ordered a counteroffensive. The generals had convinced her that it was a good idea. “A worthwhile strategy” they called it. Hollow words, when faced with the consequence of her decision. One hundred and fifty-five. One hundred and fifty-five dead. Following an order she had given. She had ordered one hundred and fifty-five to go fight and die. And they fought and died. They were gone. Because of her. All for a strategy. That might not even pay off later. No strategy is guaranteed to work. But the dead are guaranteed to stay dead.
She tried to throw up again. In the past, it had made her feel better, but that night, her body refused her the catharsis she sought. Silent tears dropped on the ground between her hands. She wasn’t even granted that rotten excuse for relief.
She slammed her fist into the ground. The pain in her knuckles quickly subsided in the numbness that permeated her. All she managed was to let out a few sobs.
“Glimmer?”
Bow, behind her, called out to her as softly as he could, but his voice cracked through the cool night air like a whip. All strength left her, leaving her frozen, while Bow stepped into the faint moonlight from the cover of a tree.
“I didn’t want to startle you. I wanted to talk to you this week, but you keep being overbooked during the day, and I never seem to catch you in your room once your meetings are over.”
His gentle concerned voice sent panic through Glimmer’s bones. Everything inside her was screaming at her to run for her life. But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t even shiver. He slowly approached her.
“I heard you teleport away from your room a couple of times late at night. So I tried my luck with our old hiding spot. And what do you know, here you a-”
Bow stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed the state Glimmer was in. He slowly knelt beside her and put a hand on her shoulder.
“I want to ask you if you’re okay, but you clearly aren’t. Do you want to talk? Can I help somehow?”
Glimmer, barely having regained basic functioning from a mind filled with screaming thoughts, leaned back and sat on her feet, her gaze fixed on the ground.
“Glimmer, please. I’m really worried about you.”
She turned and faced him.
The forest’s trees and branches were catching the faint moonlight with their nets of shadows, allowing only a few rays of the pale light to reach into their depth. The woods were adamant to keep their secrets under a veil of darkness. The shadows danced across the ground to the tune of the cool breeze sweeping past branches, never revealing all they concealed. But they permitted Bow to see enough for the sight of Glimmer to carve itself deep into his heart, as gentle as a red hot branding iron marking cow’s hides.
Her hair had fallen and was messy. Any trace of her characteristic sparkle had left her. Big silent tears were rolling down her pale, sunken face. Bow had noticed that she had lost some weight over the past few weeks, but he had never seen her cheekbones protrude as pronounced as this before.
And the look she was giving him. By the Old Ones, the look. There was nothing but despair and pain and helplessness to be found in the flickers of her eyes that the dancing shadows let him witness. No hope. No joy. No determination. Just defeat and misery and pain and anguish.
“Glimmer…”
The shock written all over Bow’s face dispersed any remaining shred of self-control Glimmer imagined herself to have. She threw herself at his chest and clasped onto his back for dear life.
And finally, she cried.
And cried.
And wailed.
And howled.
With everything she had.
Bow held her tightly and let her cry her soul out. In the years to come, when thinking back on this moment, he could swear that the entire forest remained dead silent that night as if it understood the sorrow and grief of the queen echoing between the trees. He could also swear that he had never heard a sound so heartbreaking as the queen’s wails in his arms, neither before nor since.
He ached to reassure her, to console her, but he couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t find any words. He couldn’t tell her it was going to be okay. It was not going to be okay. It was war.
“We’re gonna make it through this,” is all he could come up with.
Glimmer let out another long howl of agony, sobbing, shaking, further dissolving into the beaten and broken puddle of misery that she was.
Bow couldn’t tell how much time had passed when Glimmer finally relaxed her grasp on him, muttering apologies with a broken voice.
“You don’t need to apologise for this, Glimmer. Ever.”
She squeezed her hug tighter in appreciation.
“We should probably get you to bed soon,” Bow suggested. Glimmer nodded into his chest.
“Can you walk?”
She shook her head.
“Alright. I’ll carry you then.”
Glimmer nodded again, and Bow picked her up gently, making his way towards the palace.
Glimmer was woken up by the guards knocking on the door, waiting to escort her to the day’s first meeting. She was surprised to wake up with daylight shining through her windows. That hadn’t happened in what felt like ages. She was even more surprised to wake up cuddled up to Bow. Glimmer smiled. She couldn’t resist diving back into his warm embrace for a fleeting moment before getting up and getting ready for the day, as much as she wanted to stay in bed with him.
We’re gonna make it through this, she knew. Nothing else was an option. There were no alternatives. So she just as well might not let her mind wander along what-ifs.