The Nameless King

The world came back into focus when I and the king were left alone by Orion's bedside, surrounded by many large crystals on tripods, like lens without a camera. Alexandros and Sigrid had led me here, and Eva and Asa had been in the room as well, watching over Orion. Belatedly, I realized the king had said he wanted a word alone with me. I looked up at him next to me. "What did you want to talk about?"

My mind finally caught up to what where my eyes had been a moment ago, on Orion's pale, pale face, with the skin under his eyes darkened, like a blurred impression of a hollow-eyed skull. I looked back down at him. There was no movement under his eyelids. Was he even breathing? I risked a brief glance at his chest to confirm that there was no gaping wound waiting to sear itself anew in my mind. But there was only a plain cotton sheet covering him, bloodless and clean.

"Wish."

I barely twitched in the direction of the king.

"Would you please look at me for a moment?"

My teachers and parents had taught me to hate that request, because it meant they thought I wasn't paying attention. There had always been an edge to their voice. The king's voice, however, was gentle, and I obeyed.

He wasn't looking at me. He was looking at Orion sorrowfully. I glanced back at Orion out of reflex; usually teachers wanted me to look at what they were looking at. But that's not what the king had asked me to do, so I returned my gaze to him.

"Your friend here, you thought he was dead the whole time you were gone. Judging by your story, for multiple days of that time you were senseless, flung across the sky, but even so you grieved, and grieved quickly because you had your own dangers to face."

I realized I had left both of my encounters with Meissa out of my story, because of how personal and bewildering that encounter had been. I wondered if I should interrupt and tell the king. He continued before I could decide.

"This is only my second time seeing Orion. The first time, Eva was here, talking to Orion in hopes that he might hear her and wake up. She was telling him the story of your encounter with the mad phoenix. I'm afraid I rather snuck up on her; she didn't realize I was there when she was describing how you didn't always feel happy when you should, or scared when you're in danger."

He took off his circlet and held it in front of him, turning it this way and that so the light glinted off it.

"I have seen young and old experience joy and terror, sometimes both at the same time. Not everyone feels the same thing the same way. I have noticed, the bigger the feeling, the more likely it is to get frozen. Like a glacier that wants to weep but cannot melt enough to do so."

I took a breath. It felt like the first breath I had taken in a long, long time.

"I'm sorry sir-er, your majesty-but I don't think I ever asked your name."

He smiled at me. "I had to give up my name when I was crowned king. My duty is to serve the people completely, and there is no room for self in that."

He chuckled as he set the circlet back on his head.

"At least, that's how tradition goes. But the more I see, the more I think my 'self' matters just as much as anyone's. It's just that I can't put my needs above others, nor can I meet all my needs alone."

A whimper underneath the sheet-draped bed caught our attention. Sirius crawled out and looked at me, tail starting to wag despite his despondent air.

"Oh, Sirius, you poor thing!" I bent down to pet him.

"He must have been asleep," the king said, "he's been worn out with anxiety for his master. I think he missed you," he added with a laugh as Sirius started to jump on me and bark happily, as if realizing I wasn't a dream.

"It's good to see him," I said, then stopped. "Um, your majesty, I did leave something out of my story." I looked at him to see how he would take this admission, but he merely waited for me to continue.

"I met a huge dragon with three heads. Dschubba called it Meissa, and said it had to die."