Flashback

 

Aglaia was about six years old when she’d had her first vision. Her mother had tucked her in bed and it hadn’t taken her long to drift off into a deep sleep. 

 

In her dream, she had been wandering down a great hallway. Cold marble pillars supported an incredibly high vaulted ceiling. Along the whole length of the ceiling hung dozens of glittering crystal chandeliers. The walls were gold and every few feet down them versailles windows invited a view of a grand courtyard complete with a hedged maze amongst the gardens.  There were candles hanging from the walls and it was eerily silent. The only sound came from Aglaia’s bare feet as she wandered through the arches of this grand labyrinth. 

 

Eventually, the room opened up into an even grander, more open space. She found herself facing a grand staircase...an exact replica of the grand staircase of the palais garnier. Of course Aglaia had never known luxury. She had never known of a life or place outside of her humble home in the forest. Yes she found herself drawn to the staircase before her. Slowly, she began to climb the steps. Up and up and up.

 

It was as she made her ascent, that she first noticed the servants. Maids and footmen in perfectly fitted and tailored black suits and dresses passed by quietly in the shadows of lower rooms. Aglaia watched them curiously but no one looked up. No one saw her. So she continued climbing the stairs. Because it was a dream, she didn’t feel the least fatigued by the time she reached the top.

 

She didn’t know where she was going exactly. But before she knew it, she was in front of a set of white french doors with delicate gilding. Reaching up, she barely managed to secure the handle with the tips of her fingers and open one of the doors. Like a silent shadow, she slipped inside.

 

The room opened into a spacious living area. A study area was attached further off that was surrounded with bookshelves shelving large, old pristine-looking tomes. A large, dark mahogany desk nestled in the middle of it all was littered with papers and a fountain pen. But it was the figure sitting at the desk that was what immediately arrested her attention.

 

He was tall and pale with the most ethereal, chiseled features she had ever seen. He was more captivating than the fairies from her mother’s garden. His cheekbones were prominent, his jawline sharp. His skin was clear and contrasted strikingly with hair that was so dark brown it could almost be mistaken for black.

 

The man let out a soft sigh as his dark eyes studied a paper grasped in his slender, long, white fingers. He looked lost in thought. 

 

Youth and beauty.

 

Yet ancient and powerful.

 

 Even at the tender age of 6, Aglaia felt the unspoken need to not interrupt this man. Although she couldn’t put a finger on what it was exactly, she knew she must not disturb him. To do so would be...very bad.

 

Backing away slowly and quietly, Aglaia felt herself suddenly tripping backwards down a couple of steps that led into the main living area that she hadn’t known were there. With a shriek and a crash, she fell onto the plush rug below, knocking into a glass coffee table.

 

Normally, she would have had tears in her eyes at the pain. But, as this was all a dream, there was no pain. Sitting up and rubbing at her head, Aglaia looked up to see the man behind the desk had dropped his paper and was actually staring intently at her, his eyes widened slightly in surprise. Slowly, he stood up and made his way around the desk. He walked so softly she couldn’t hear a sound. In moments, he crouched down in front of her; his eyes slightly curious.

 

“How did you come here, little one?” his voice was soft.

 

Aglaia looked up at him, confused. “I...I don’t know.” she confessed truthfully.

 

At that moment, a servant knocked at the door. The man in front of her never took his eyes from Aglaia as he called in an authoritative tone, “Yes?”

 

The maid who had entered kept her eyes trained dutifully to the rug, not once lifting her eyes, “My Lord, I brought you what you requested.” She held a silver tray with a silver goblet resting in the center.

 

“Leave it on my desk,” the man commanded. The maid bobbed a quick curtsey and, still keeping her eyes averted, hurried to place the goblet on his desk. Job finished, the maid began to pack out of the room when the man’s voice stopped her again, “Wait.”

 

The maid froze. “Yes, my Lord?”

 

The man turned back to look at Aglaia. Pointing at her, he asked the maid, “What do you see?”

 

Surprise and a little bit of fear flitted across the maid’s face. “Pardon?”

 

“I’m telling you,” the man said silkily, “to tell me what you see.” He continued pointing to Aglaia.

 

“Who me?” Aglaia asked pointing one of her own small fingers at herself.

 

The maid slowly raised her eyes to glance at where her master pointed. “I see a coffee table, my Lord.”

 

“Is that so?” the man asked, raising a sculpted brow imperiously.

 

Aglaia giggled, “I’m not a table.” she corrected the maid, “I’m a little girl.”

 

The maid however did not respond to her words. It was as if she couldn’t hear or see her. Aglaia’s brow furrowed in confusion at the maid’s lack of response. The man simply nodded and turned his back to the maid again, “That will be all.” With that, the maid exited the room and the door clicked softly behind her.

 

The man turned back to Aglaia; an amused expression on his face. “Well little one. You must be a seer. Still too young to control what you see, but strong enough to find me.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “How very peculiar.”

 

“No, no.” Aglaia shook her head, “Weren’t you listening to what I said? I’m a little girl.”

 

The man chuckled as he bent back down and reached out a hand to her. Placing her small hand in his, she allowed him to pull her to her feet. “Of course you are and a very lovely little girl too. But you also are a seer, little one. It’s someone who can access the world and see visions of the past, present, or future through their dreams.”

 

All that information went over Aglaia’s small head. “I don’t understand.”

 

The man chuckled again as he walked back over to his desk and picked up the goblet on his desk. He swirled the contents lazily as he appraised the girl. “I guess it’s like this. When you fall asleep, you can travel to other places.”

 

“Oh!” This concept was easier for Aglaia to grasp. “Yes. I fell asleep.” She nodded.

 

She eyed the man for a moment. He could see the question in her eyes and a soft smile curved at his lips. “What is it?” he asked gently.

 

“Why do you look so sad?” she asked with childlike bluntness.

 

“I look sad?” the man asked, raising his eyebrows at her. He placed the goblet back on the silver platter.

 

“Your eyes are sad.” Aglaia insisted.

 

“For someone so small, you sure see deeply.” the man acceded, “I am someone who has a lot of responsibility to bear. Power creates distance from others. It creates bitterness, jealousy. It causes others to lie to you because they want that power. People pretend to love you while secretly planning your demise. Perhaps that is why I am….sad.” The man looked surprised that he had just said so much to such a small child.

 

Aglaia shook her head. A lot of what he said had gone over her head again. But she thought she understood. “It sounds...lonely.” she offered, feeling sorry for him.

 

The man reached over and gently her hair. His fingers were so light she could barely feel his touch. “Yes, I suppose it is rather lonely.”

 

Aglaia’s heart hurt for this kind man. The one who seemed like he needed friends... Friends. An idea began to form in her mind and a smile spread itself across her face. Looking up at him she said, “You don’t have to be lonely anymore. I will be your friend. If you need anything, I will be here for you.”

 

The man looked at her and for the first time since she’d met him, she saw his eyes soften. He chuckled and ruffled her hair before standing up and grabbing his drink again. He took a sip from his goblet before asking her, “What is your name little one?”

 

“I’m Aglaia.”

 

“Aglaia.” The man savored the taste of her name. “What a lovely name,” he murmured, “A name meaning beauty and splendour. It suits you. You have light in your eyes.”

 

“And you’re my Lord.” Aglaia proudly showed off that she’d been listening earlier. The man choked on the contents of his glass. A trickle of red sprayed the rim of his goblet. He coughed briefly before turning back to her with a real smile.

 

“To many people I am.” he conceded. But he leaned over to her conspiratorially, “But, my little friend, my name is actually Dante.”

 

“Dante…” she rolled the name around in . It was a funny name. But she didn’t want to be rude. Instead she smiled up at him, “It’s nice to meet you Dante.”

 

End Flashback