When the universe...

Posted on Thu Apr 24th, 2025 @ 3:04pm by Petty Officer 2nd Class Khlynt Medan

1,371 words; about a 7 minute read

When the universe felt young and the days were endless…

We always start stories with that, to make sure the audience knows they are stories. Fables or parables, myths or legends, rooted in history or in fiction. We open with that to show that this isn’t real, that there is comfort to be found no matter how dark something is.

So.

When the universe felt young and the days were endless, there lived a King and Queen on a planet of peace. They were not the only King and Queen, for there were many, and their subjects lived in harmony and an understanding of time itself. The Queen was from a long line of royalty, strong and surefooted, able to handle everything in her stride. The King was lowly born, yet possessed a talent for the dances, able to recall all the steps.

The Queen loved her King, for in him she saw the hopes of adventure. And so, she encouraged him to explore. The King sailed in his ship, across the universe, bringing gifts back to his Kingdom. Yet no gift was as precious to him as his daughter. The Princess possessed the beauty of the Queen and the mind of the King. And every time he came home, the King saw how the Kingdom blossomed with his daughter’s mind and skill.

One day, the gift the King brought back was a beautiful string instrument. Its strings were the colour of a rainbow and he said, “never play this. For while it is the most beautiful instrument created, it will cause your death if you play.”

“Why did someone make such an instrument, with such strings, that can never be played?” asked the Princess, watching the instrument as it hung over the bed of the King and Queen,

“Because,” the King said, “some things are beautiful because they are dangerous. I brought this gift to remind us that beauty has a cost. The strings are rainbow because of the poison, not because they were made to be beautiful.”

The Princess was bothered by this, yet did not question the King. Life went on, with sun filled days and much joy.

The King once more set out, to gather more treasures for his Kingdom. Yet as he came back, he saw strange ships in the sky. They were an unnatural shape, yet moved with purpose. People of metal and flesh scourged the lands, filling the Kingdom with a plague that robbed people of their minds. The King rushed back, hoping to rescue the Queen and the Princess.

Yet all hope had ended. The sky was black when he found the Queen and Princess, in eternal slumber, clutching the beautiful instrument in their cold hands.

“If only I had not brought it. If only I had never left,” the King lamented, picking up the instrument. He broke it across the floor and reached for the strings, when a knight in his armour came in.

“Stay your hand, my liege!” he shouted and pulled the grieving King from his death.

Their world was in fire and death, the metal and flesh men crawled across it like insects. The King and his people fled, scattering across the universe.

The King was now a refugee in the universe, his heart broken by the loss of his family and his people. Twisted by anger and hate, he became a dark knight, hiring his swords out to fight, since his own enemy was impossible to defeat. For many nights and days did he fight, spilling the blood of other people’s enemies, whilst wishing his own would spill.

Yet chance led him into a new court. This was a court of warlords, generals and spies. The king had not wished to be part of it, yet he found himself wielding different weapons. Words were his sword and he danced in the background, casting spells where needed to cloud minds to his purpose.

Many places he was a visitor and honoured guest, and many trials did he complete. At times, the daggers were at his throat, yet he danced away from any injury. Time passed and he felt more healed, the anger dying down as he grieved what he had lost. So he cast away his old name and took a new one.

He came across a planet with a Kingdom that reminded him of his own. These people were cultured, yet there was far more intrigue than he had seen in his own Kingdom. Yet it was the first time he felt at home, so he found a place there. Many Lords did he meet and befriend, for he put himself in a place where he would be listened to. There was less blood, yet he knew that words were as powerful. But for a time, the King was at peace.

“There is a great storm coming,” the King said one day, watching the heavens. He saw no signs, yet his heart knew that a great sadness was about to come.

And the heavens fell, when a great enemy came and ruined the world where the King had taken refuge. “Not again,” lamented the King, as he took his airship and flew away, unable to watch the destruction which mirrored his own past.

The King drifted in the universe, his soul ice.

But as in every story, Fate played a hand. The King’s ship drifted into a battle and at once he saw his true enemy. The machine and fleshed merged. He saw an army of knights, pure in heart and intention, fight to bring down the enemy’s King and Queen. He wished to be joined with them, yet he was floating between the stars and could not interfere.

The King vowed not to be helpless. He joined the Knights, retaking his Old Name, wielding words as his weapons. And for a time, it was a duty he relished in, for while his age was not in his skin he felt it in his bones. Enemies, however, come from many places. He saw his old allies that once he had been able to bend to his will rise and become enemies. The King knew his words would not be enough, so he sought out and became a True Knight. Yet he was low in his status despite his bearing, finding himself ridiculed as the Fool rather than celebrated as a Knight. Knowing the enemy they faced, he blinded himself, so he would not have to see them.

Blinded, the King fought, forgetting who he was for a time. And the war was won, and much celebration happened. The King, bloodied, gave himself his Sight back and left the Knights, to travel again. He drifted, yet after all that, he found he needed a home. He tried many places, yet all he saw was the destruction that the war had wrought.

He returned to the Knights, lost as he was, yet proclaimed: “Long have my words been used to wound, I turn my weapons into bandages. Let me heal what I once ripped up.”

And so, the King settled into a new life, remembering all he had lost and the wrongs he had done. He went to a Great Wolf, to listen to all its woes, letting his words be a balm for once. And he lived on, until the end of his days.

What was the moral of this story? What lessons could be taken from it? Is it that danger can appear at any time, or that someone can change how they are based on their life experiences? Is grief something that time can truly dampen, and how much time is enough? When can you move on?

Maybe the moral of this story is that there isn’t one. Life can be messy, tragedy can strike at any time and to be scared of it will only scar you more.

Maybe the truth is…this isn’t a story. There was no King, no Queen, no Princess. Just a father, a mother and a daughter, many years ago. And the father is no longer a father but a man, no different from others.

Who knows.

Computer, end log.

 

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