Mind of a Witness

Chapter 1

My will is the will of the Queen. She commands, I obey without hesitation. Her word is law, and as an instrument of Her word, no law of the human realm applies to me. My father's will was the will of his own Queen. My grandfather's will was the will of his Queen, and so on and so forth, through every age either written or remembered.

My soul is the soul of the Queen. I hold a piece of her eternity within my breast. If ever Death finds Her, Death finds me. It is this pure bond that allows me to be Her Witness. A Witness cannot lie. A Witness cannot knowingly record a falsehood. My word is considered indisputable fact within every courtroom in the land. And though this final detail is often whispered rather than spoken aloud with the pride that it deserves: Let it be known that a Witness can reach into the realm of demons to find power, protected from all possible corruption by the Queen's divine purity.

My heart is the heart of the Queen. Whosoever She loves, I too love. I am a member of the royal family by the power of Her grace. My presence is never questioned, my place at the table never withdrawn. I am Her surrogate in all social and intimate affairs. If She cannot or does not wish to participate in an encounter, I am sent in Her stead. My lips become Her lips. My body serves as Her body. To bed me is to bed Her. It is still considered quite an honor, or so I'm told.

There was nothing special about me before I took the oath, a dozen seasons back. My bloodline is not blessed with great might, nor with athleticism. Our family's role, when not called to serve, is cultivating the fields adjacent to the royal palace. I was a farm boy named 'Andy'. I tended to the chickens and slopped the pigs. I would still be there to this day if She had not reached out Her hand and chosen me over all of my brothers. It was Her eighteenth birthday. I didn't know it at the time, but in every way that mattered, it would be my birthday as well.

I only relate these things because She asked me something at breakfast today. I did not fully understand the question, for She asked if I 'wanted' to keep a journal. I want what She wants, of course. So I asked if She wished for me to keep a journal. But my question was answered only with a smile. I begged Her to tell me what She desired, but my begging was met with a tender kiss and a soft dismissal. I withdrew from the halo of Her blond hair, allowing it to fall from my ears and shoulders as I beat a hasty retreat.

It was the latest in a series of strange experiments. My beloved Queen was concerned that I had no 'free will', as She called it. I understand the concept of course. I possessed this kind of self-direction when I was a youth on the farm. My birth mother would often tell me that I had a little too much 'will'. But as a Witness, what need have I for independence? I am unified with a Queen who knows me better than I know myself.

Still. After much reflection, I believed that deep down... She wished for me to write these things. And though I might find the exercise to be nothing more than penmanship practice, if it brings an ounce of joy or solace to Her, I will take up the quill gladly.

A moment. She just walked into my room to see me writing. Her smile makes the oil lamp's flame seem dim by comparison.

I asked Her, "Do you need me, Your Majesty?"

She said, "Always."

But before I could rise, She pressed upon my shoulders, urging me to settle down again. She said, "No. Finish your writing first."

"Begging your pardon, Ma'am, but I do not understand. Why is this important?"

She rubbed my shoulders for a few moments, the kind of absent affection that an older sibling might bestow upon their younger brother. After reading the first few lines of my journal, She said, "Because your mind is not the mind of the Queen, my love."

Then She left me. Her parting instructions were simple: Find Her when I was finished.

It is my sincere hope that any future readers of this journal do not take offense when I say this: I'm finished for the moment. My desire to be with Her outweighs my patience for this scribbling.

But I will return soon enough. And I will share every detail of what transpires. I promise.