Nighttime Stories

A soft wind blew through the cherry blossom trees, loosing a few of the petals of the barely budding spring blooms and sending them flying into the night. Stars above twinkled as crickets chirped from somewhere within the long grass that bordered the palace garden's borders. Leaves of foliage and the trees that surrounded the great structure rustled softly, joining in the chorus that was the sounds of the night. Everything was quiet and peaceful as it should be.

Inside the walls of the palace, a mother and her child sat together in a room, pressed against a mountain of decorative laced pillows as they laid beneath the grand vaulted ceiling and delicate chandeliers that hung suspended from gilded fixtures. The flickering light from the candle next to the mother's paw sent shadows skipping across the ceiling and the walls, making everything glitter as if it were glowing. She held a book, a leather-bound novel with illustrations and depictions of the stories that were contained within it. As her eyes passed over the page, she smiled, feeling the nostalgia of seeing something she had read when she too was once a child. The colorful drawings and expressive movements of the painted figures were mesmerizing. She hadn't realized that she had trailed off from the sentence she was reading when her child nudged her gently.

"Oh, dear, I've done it again, haven't I?" She muttered, rolling her eyes at herself in amusement. She was doing that more often now, much to the little viscling's contempt.

"Yes, mother!" The child squeaked, furrowing his tiny brow in the cutest scowl she ever did see. He didn't look all too happy at her reaction to him being angry and pouted further, which didn't help the smile that was already on her face. "You have to finish, you promised!"

"That I did, dearest." Her son squirmed underneath her arm, shifting positions so he too could get a look at the book. "Settle down first, Renkuda, else you knock it out of my hands!" She moved to make room for him, bending over to give a tiny affectionate lick to the top of his head. He reached up and ruffled his mane in irritation, but didn't make any protest except for a small grunt. He sat there, waiting. And so she continued, narrating the story that she recounted to him nearly every night, never growing tired of it. The sweet-smelling breeze that came through the open windows only added to the fantastical atmosphere that seemed to accompany anyone when one delved into the world of fairytale legends and the battles of great and fearless warriors.

Renkuda listened intently, hanging onto every word that came out of her mouth, staring at the brushed symbols and pictures with wide, amazed eyes as if it were the first time he had ever seen them and not the hundredth. His childlike glee over something that most would find so small and insignificant was so incredibly endearing and precious; the queen valued it more than anything else. Renkuda placed a tiny paw on the page of the book as he leaned in, his nose almost pressing against the paper as he stared at a specific depiction of a tall, handsome soldier dressed in golden armor and holding a beautiful sword. The picture was overlaid with gold leaf, giving it a shimmering quality and sending tiny flecks of light reflecting off of it.

"Careful, son," the mother warned softly, watching as Renkuda touched it ever-so-gently as if something as small as one breath would ruin the work. He always was, treating it as if it were something to be revered. In a way, it was. After all, much of their culture was built on and around these great and marvelous stories that had been passed down from generation to generation. He put his paw away and let out a quiet yawn, prompting another smile from his mother. She set down the book and scooped him up into her arms, ignoring the tiny but frail fight he put up. Eventually, he gave in and let her hold him, snuggling into her chest fur as she stood up and walked towards the window.

For a few minutes, she stared out into the night, eyes trailing the sky above as her son's breathing slowed to a calm, even pace. The lanterns hung outside the window were burning low, emitting a faint orange light that drew a few fluttering moths. Fireflies danced around the lotus blooms on the surface of one of the ponds, following each other in patterns and creating glowing trails in her vision that lingered even after they had flown past. She closed her eyes, just listening to the sounds around her. It was something that she wished she could have more of, especially these moments where she was able to be alone with her precious child, nothing to interrupt, no one to barge in with urgent news. It was rare, hard to come by and even frustrating at times, but that only made the times it did happen even better.

As her son's breathing devolved into quiet snores, muffled into her fur, she found herself wishing life was simpler sometimes, free of worry and the stresses of running a kingdom so she had more time to retreat, to calm down, to spend time like this. Even the forest in the gardens seemed to call out to her some days, beckoning her to abandon responsibility and run off into the vast expanse of trees where no one could find her even if they tried. She supposed it was why she tried so hard; her beautiful son deserved as much as she could give before he too was dragged into this life. She wanted him to experience the little joys, those things that only happened when you were out, alone with your thoughts and surrounded by nature. Turning away, she moved to set Renkuda onto his bed, kissing his forehead before leaving the room.