Again this vision. But this time it was more intense, sadder and heartbreaking.
There he was, the heartbroken ruler, still locked in a deep night.
He was tall and handsome, sitting on his huge throne, his head resting lightly on the back of his seat.
He stared at the starry sky, then lowered his head to look at the one he held in his arms.
He stared at him for a long time, putting his thin and strong hand on the cheek of this being, then smoothing and caressing his long ebony black hair, with silver strands, shining in the starlight.
His other arm supporting the weight of this body that had lost its life.
The sovereign finally closed his eyes and buried his face in the hair of this person with a body that had lost all warmth, that he loved.
Finally, he stood up, still carrying his precious lifeless burden.
He wore sumptuous beige silk pants, streaked with silver threads and adorned with sublime patterns and precious stones. His bare chest revealed various incomprehensible symbols, which must have covered his entire body.
His long blue sovereign coat was as bright as the veils of the bright night under which he walked.
His throne was at the top of a huge building, without roof or wall, but only surrounded by colossal pillars. His palace, majestic and immense, had as many magnificent and luxurious rooms as this night so different from the glitter.
He was now descending from his palace, passing through endless corridors engraved with fabulous stories.
Finally, he arrived at a bridge, as long as wide, bordered on each side by imposing statues of sacred beasts. This astonishing construction overhung an immense forest, dark and infinite, sheltering spirits and beings which, at this moment, contemplated with their strange and melancholic eyes the Monarch crossing the bridge while carrying with him the beautiful but lifeless body.
At the end of the bridge, he climbed a monumental staircase, also lined with statues, but this time representing winged women of stunning beauty.
When the sovereign finally arrived at the top of this other building, as high and marvelous as his palace, he approached a huge base engraved with a sacred and mysterious writing. He delicately placed his light and priceless burden on it.
Then, contemplating his beloved lying with all the tenderness of which one can be capable, he bent down, kissed the closed eyes which will never open again, then went down to the mouth.
A fine rain was falling despite the clear sky which showed only an ocean of starlight. It was probably a great magic.
The rain fell on the two people without either of them being able to feel it.
No one will ever know if there were tears in the rain, or if the rain itself was tears.
Then the monarch took off his imperial cloak, and covered with it the sublime body of his love. He stood up, staring one last time at his forever sleeping face, and then he covered the cloak over his face to cover it all.
And finally he left. A light wind blew over the shroud and through the hair, the last part still visible, of the one who was to rest forever atop this monument.
***
What a sad dream. Sad and probably unavoidable. Conor woke up with this feeling.
He opened his eyes and took a long breath, looking unseen at the high ceiling of his room, where the vivid image of a spring morning with a thousand little furry creatures of soft, light colors had replaced that of the starry night that lay before his sleep.
He smiled absentmindedly at this innocent sight, so different from his dream that had swollen his heart.
The young man wondered who was this lifeless being transported to this high place to rest. He was of incomparable beauty, and certainly endowed with great magic, which unfortunately did not allow him to be spared this tragic end.
After a last sigh, Conor finally got up. He got out of his huge four-poster bed, covered with sumptuous mauve fabrics.
He went to his bathroom, also very luxurious, made of blue marble and equipped with white gold taps. The fairies had already prepared his bath.
They poured into the huge bathtub a perfumed and slightly foamy water, decorated with small flowers.
After thanking his servants, Conor plunged in with delight.
Leaning casually on the edge, he turned to the huge bay window that made up one wall of the bathroom, and admired the city waking up in the dawn light. Then, as if tired of this lively spectacle, he closed his eyes and turned his head. The walls were now an enchanted forest filled with different beings of all sizes and kinds. Together they created a joyful activity that made the young magician laugh despite his bad mood. Some of the yellow and red fairies were singing softly, which helped their master to calm down and think quietly about what he had to do. After thanking the tribes of the magical forest, he left his bath, and went to his room. Pulling back the heavy cyan curtains, and opening wide the huge windows of his suite, he watched the day come alive.
No matter how hard Conor tried, he could only see a handsome young man with eyes forever closed, and for whom he felt, against all odds, a unique attachment. And finally, he made his decision. As some things just have to be that way.
He put on black pants with several pockets, a black polo shirt with red lines at the hems, the whole completed by suede moccasins, also black. He took a bag and filled it with essential items. With the help of magic, the bag weighed almost nothing.
One last time, he turned to his glittering suite, with its marble floors, its pure crystal chandeliers, its walls beautifully endowed with extraordinary magic, revealing animated paintings changing according to the mood and needs of their young master.
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