A quote: “If you do not expect the unexpected you will not find it, for it is not to be reached by search or trail.” ~~ Heraclitus

I’ll start with a story …

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The Royal Historian Pembrook was mildly surprised by the summons, but as he approached Her Majesty’s private apartments he grew convinced there may be congratulations coming his way for the wildly popular tome he produced profiling the Royal Couple from first meeting to present day. Produced under official seal, the reading public were enthralled.

Pembrook strutted into her inner office, chin up, eyes sparkling until he saw his private portfolio spread out on her desk.

It was a blow to the gut, and he could feel the blood drain from his face. Who was the traitor in his midst? The turncoat who spirited this off to Her Majesty. He was done for …

She looked up over the sheet she was reading to hold his gaze. In her 80s, her eyes were still brilliant blue, her once golden hair now silver, pinned up in a far more casual style than Pembrook would expect. She waved a hand at him.

“Sit, Historian. Sit before you fall down.”

He did with relief. He was going to keep his head. For now.

She smiled, “I did enjoy your official biography of the King and I, Pembrook. A little tame, a little too deferential but you got most of facts and events right …”

He raised his eyebrows at “most”.

“Really, Pembrook, as a Royal Couple we were boring. We lived a quiet and uncontroversial life. No arranged marriage here, a love match and a grand friendship that developed through our years,” she paused, wiping a tear away. “Only old age and death have parted us and how I miss him.”

He was stunned at the revealing moment. He had not fully believed the stories of domestic bliss he was fed and recorded. That’s why the portfolio …

Her smile this time was a little wicked, “There are things you don’t know, Historian. And not this back-stairs gossip and stable tales,” Her hand slapped close the portfolio, “Wicked tales born of envy and jealousy. Tales you were waiting to publish upon my death. Oh, no, sir, I will tell you things that will stand your jaded outlook on its head.”

She flicked her hand and a trio of tiny lights streaked across the room, soon followed by a crowd of other lights, like fireflies at dusk in the lowland meadows. They swarmed the wall behind her, pulling back a panel and pulling objects to set on the desk.

Her Majesty’s eyes were as bright as the tiny lights, a halo glow about her head as she nodded at the glimmering glass shoes before her.

“Let me start at the beginning.”

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Yes, I went way over 200 this time, but I was having too much fun with the story. Feel free to have as much fun yourself.

Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe Stock standard license.