It's happening again.

The world has gone dark and you hear the neighing of a horse from some corner of your mind. The sounds echo against the walls of your skull, resonating, building on each other, shattering all that they touch. You grit your teeth and squint your eyes closed, shivering and crying out to the void.

Your breathing is quick and shallow. You open your eyes. Darkness still, but the neighing is gone.

Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake UP!

Your eyes shoot open again. It worked!

The world lays before you in all its splendid glory. You sigh profoundly in relief.

A beautiful, tall white parakeet approaches you from the side. You turn to him and he hugs you. You run your hand along his back, alternatively ruffling and smoothing his feathers. A true friend: he doesn't mind in the least.

A turtle waddles up behind you and joins the hug. A chimpanzee gloms on as well. You rest your cheek on the parakeet's shoulder and close your eyes.

#

“That girl needs therapy," someone avers from five o'clock.

“Don't talk about me like I'm not here," you mutter acidly, still facing forward as you recline on the chaise longue. Your mother, sitting at one o'clock, starts and blinks. You imagine the man behind you does the same.

“Young lady," the rear-voice continues after a pause, “Do you know where you are?"

“I don't care to answer that question, doctor," you spit the words with expert disdain, “But I tire of indulging you." You look pointedly at your mother to enjoin her support and to indicate that your sentiment extends to her as well.

“I should suggest," the rear-voice says, trying to match your manner of speech, “That you tread with care, Miss Fishpaw. At this point your fate lies in my hands."

“Doctor," your mother begins, “Perhaps we could—"

“No, Mrs. Fishpaw, we could not. Your girl needs therapy. It's the opinion of the entire school staff that Delilah may pose a danger to herself or others."

You taste the metallic tang of fear, but you mask it well, “Their opinion is irrelevant. They don't like me, and would say anything to be rid of me. You, doctor, do not have the luxury of flippantly declaring me to be anything more than a human female sitting in your chair."

“Ah, good, so at least you're human."

“Of course I'm human," you snarl, “What else would you have me be?"

A pause. “Nothing, Delilah."

Silence for several seconds. Your mother looks uncomfortable. “May I please go?" you ask the olds, doing your best to sound polite—or something bordering on politeness.

Your mother opens her mouth as if she's about to speak, but the doctor cuts in again, “No, Delilah," at last he steps into view and faces you. He's much younger than you expected. “Even if your school weren't worried about you, you were nearly catatonic for fifteen minutes just now. We have to run some tests."

You sneer, “I wasn't catatonic, I was refusing to respond. With respect, doctor, I hold this entire process in—"

#

“My liege," the parakeet whispers as you continue your extended embrace, “The barbarians are approaching."

“Thank you, dear Zerrimaningren," you say as you release him. The turtle and chimpanzee do the same. “Order the garrison to man the battlements." You turn your attention to one of the straps bracing the armor on your left leg as you continue, “Inform General Hoffenfuss that I will be leading the Royal Guard personally, from the center; the soldiers should see their queen." Your disdain for the royal We always makes Zerrimaningren smile ever so slightly. He bows and withdraws to find Hoffenfuss.

The general, a handsome gray wolf with a single jaundiced eye, appears in front of you and salutes smartly. You nod for him to stand as he was. He crosses his arms and shakes his head, “Your Majesty, you will be putting yourself at unnecessary risk if you join the Guard. You needn't make a show of gallantry. The barbarians will show quarter to no one, least of all a queen."

You step up so that your forehead is scarcely four inches from his chin. His face does not move, and his gaze remains resolutely unchanged, staring at some space beyond your short horns. You look up at him. “I've made up my mind, Rodrigo. If you want to protect me, you're going to need to come up with a plan that accounts for me leading from the center."

Hoffenfuss exhales sharply with resigned frustration, “Yes, Majesty."

You narrow your eyes and smirk, then stretch your neck up to kiss the general on the chin. He exhales sharply again. He glances down at you with an unreadable expression before looking straight ahead once again.

“I'm sorry I had to leave you so suddenly the other day, Rodrigo. I will make it up to you, I promise." You caress his cheek and step back.

Hoffenfuss clears his throat and offers a single, deep nod. “Thank you."

You stand erect and return the nod, “Dismissed, gen—"

#

You're… laying down? You look around, alarmed. You're on a stretcher as best you can tell, being wheeled down a corridor by two unrecognizable people whose faces you can't see. You try to move, but you find that your arms are partially restrained under a single strap across your chest. You wiggle your shoulders to try to free yourself.

Before you make any headway, the stretcher rolls into a room where your mother and the doctor are waiting—along with others. As you're brought to them, they notice that you're awake. “Oh, sweetheart!" your mother exclaims as she leans down to hug you. Your body is tense and unreceptive, but you can't stop her, and she does seem to be genuinely in need of this.

When she straightens, the doctor from before puts himself into view. “Delilah, what do you remember from today?"

You blink. “I remember being in your office. Asking to leave. If that's what you mean." You wiggle your shoulders indignantly. “Do you mind explaining this?"

“Delilah, you have a massive aneurysm. We're preparing you for emergency surgery to remove it."

Your eyes widen.

“It's a good thing that you came to my office when you did—given the increasing frequency of your episodes of unresponsiveness, you could be heading for a rupture any minute now."

“Doctor, I… like the effects of this aneurysm. Is there a way to keep things as they are?"

His brow furrows, “No. Why would you want that?"