The sunlight through the stained glass sent a cascade of colors across the bed, but she didn’t notice it. Those pale blue eyes seemed to only register grays and shadows. Without stopping she went to the small bench under the window, opening it to gaze out over the lands.
  Her tower provided a spectacular view of the courtyard. The staff had almost finished clearing away the overgrowth, and sings of the castles splendor. Gardeners had begun planting new flowers, and small buds grew in neat lines leading up to the main doors. Past them, surrounding the high walls, Farmers had cleared away space for crops, and already corn was shoulder-high and the promise of a good year showing. All over she could see motion. Servitors went from homestead to homestead, taking toll on who was still present, and who would still pledge loyalty to their king. Beyond all of that…
  She turned her eyes away; she couldn’t bear to see past the renewing lands of her father. Too much hand changed, the rest of the world had moved on while her kingdom sat static. From this height she could see those new roads built by their neighboring kingdoms. No, she shook her head; none of those kingdoms existed anymore. These new rulers were more than happy to help when one of their princes had stumbled upon her sleeping.
  She shivered softly, remembering the feel of his lips upon hers. Deep down in her heart she loved him, and will always. But there was that seed of doubt, that fear and revulsion that came in that single moment when her eyes opened, and saw the handsome stranger hovering over her face.
  The door to her room cracked open, and that very face peered from around it. “My love,” he spoke with a soft tone, sensing her apprehension thick in the room, “My father has arrived, and is in court awaiting your presence”. He paused a moment, gazing at the line of her back showing within the simple gown she wore.
  “… Your father seems a little aggravated”
  She didn’t move, even as the door shut as silently as her love could manage.
  A hundred years.
  Her family was with her, and the courtiers and jesters and servants she loved seeing growing up. But all of her friends from the farmsteads were gone; their children’s children were most likely gone too.
  A deep, penetrating loneliness filled her. There was a comfort that came from knowing one belonged. Something beyond friends and family and relations. A comfort in the times, the subtle knowledge of how one acts, what one sees, and how they take in the world around them. That comfort was denied her. And knowing that loss, she could see it in the people around her.
  Many of them trudged on, rebuilding their lives, remaking friendships and communication with a world that has been without them a century, fighting to fill that emptiness. Some simply existed, enthralled by the new world; they moved as if in a stupor, making their way from one point to another.
  Yelling echoed up from the audience chamber. She recognized the strong, dominant Bass of her father, and just under it the calming tones of her mother, trying to settle him down. A moment later another man yelled back. Her future father in law, she thought with a cold shudder.
  Carefully she reached outside the window, around the brick to a small overhang of the sill that was invisible from inside. Resting on it was a small, ornate wooden box. Setting it on her lap, she unclasped the latch.
   Inside sat a simple wooden spindle, cracked with age and still baring spiders silk-thin strands of thread. She had hidden it away before the kingdom began cleaning. It was right where she had left it, in the room where the old lady was spinning.
  Carefully she turned the spindle in her hands, careful to avoid the tip. It was as sharp as ever.
  Footsteps now echoed from the stairway leading up to her room. She knew they were coming to check on her, and to also bring her down, to face that new world head on.
  Her gaze was on the door as it cracked open, the head of her beloved peered in. He looked around curiously, until his gaze fell on her, and the spindle in her hands. Comprehension and fear dawned on his face. He yelled something, but she didn’t hear it. He started running towards her, but she didn’t see him.
  “I love you…”
  Those final words left her lips on a final exhale, barely a whisper. The sharpened tip of the spindle pressed to her fingertip, until a well of blood formed. A singe crimson droplet fell, landing with a silent sound between her feet.