As the Queen stood on the platform, she examined the faces of her subjects below. They were ecstatic to see her; cheers and applause, just for her. The Queen was used to being adored. She was beautiful, she was young, and she was royalty. This was not her first appearance in public, but her stomach was in knots all the same. The excitement of the crowd was buzzing in her ears as she took a deep breath. She was ready for this. She had practiced for this day.

She took a small trembling step forward and addressed the crowd: “I have not come here to preach a sermon; I have come here to die.”With her last words spoken, Queen Anne knelt before the executioner’s block and shut her eyes against the jeers and bloodthirsty screams of the crowd as the sword swung down to take her head.

The day was gorgeous, a crisp autumn afternoon. Erick sat on the bridge, watching the clouds race across the sky and the wind dance through the field of grasses.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Erick looked over at the woman speaking next to him. He didn’t recognise her, but he felt comforted by her presence. “Yea” he responded and sunk back into his thoughts.

Helen smiled, “it’s okay, take your time. We’re not in a hurry.” She sat down near enough that Erick could still feel her presence without intruding on his space.

“This is where I grew up. My brothers and I used to run across this field to play in this creek on hot summer days. I helped my dad plow the fields and reap the harvest and when he passed I took over the farm. Well, until I was drafted. Then my brothers took care of it in my stead. They took care of Ma too.

“I planned to bring my wife here, you know, when I got married. Have my kids on the farm and pass it down to them.” Erick looked over at Helen and sighed.

She nodded and stood. “I understand. Unfortunately, the fates don’t always weave our tapestries the way we want them too.” She extended her hand to Erick.

He laughed bitterly as he took it. “You’re right about that. Who knew I’d lay on a grenade in some god forsaken jungle on the other side of the world.”

Helen smiled gently and walked with him to the end of the bridge, “I did. Are you ready?”

Erick took one last look at the field, “will it hurt?”

“No,” Helen shook her head, “once you pass through the gates, you will be welcomed to Odin’s table as the hero you are. They will celebrate you and your sacrifice.”

Erick nodded and stepped through the wooden arch. Helen closed it behind him and checked his name off her list. She unfurled her wings and launched into the sky. “Time to find where Sgt Gunnar Karlsson wandered to.”

She was beautiful. Her blue eyes clear and bright and focused on him. The wind had dishevelled her black curls and dislodged a few bobby pins, but she was still his radiant girl.

He could feel the nervous energy rolling off of her. The anticipation for the ceremony to be over. He glanced down again at her dress. White organza and lace, a bit old fashioned, but it suited her, the thin fabric tantalisingly outlined her form. He wished the priest would finish his homily. No one was here to listen to him drone on. They were here for them, for his beautiful queen.

The candles in the cathedral flickered and the faces of all who gathered were facing them in rapt attention. Finally. After what seemed an age, the priest had finished. He made his pronouncements. She was his.

He smiled at all who had gathered before them as he stepped from the circle of protection hastily sketched on the floor. Their excitement turned to panic, as they realised their efforts to contain him had failed. He would feast heartily tonight, starting with his beautiful queen.

The cold was breathtaking, and the sound of the wind was deafening in my ears. My head was swimming and my vision was blurred, a constant stream of bright light like being on a shadeless snowfield. When my vision finally cleared, just sky. Cold and sharp. Blue and impossibly clear. Had I fallen? My head pounded as I tried to remember what I had been doing.

How did I end up in this strange space of light and sky? What had I been doing before these odd sensations had taken me? Bits and pieces of memory floated amongst my scrambled thoughts like flotsam and jetsam in a vast endless ocean of blue.

A man, taller than I, dark complexion, bronze and gold eyes set in an angular face surrounded by...a trapper hat? Was he cold? I was cold. This wind was biting through my parka straight to the bone.

Climbing, a seemingly never-ending endeavour through snow and ice and stone. His face again, smiling and laughing as we traversed the steep cliff, choosing our steps carefully. Warmth. Did my heart always flutter when he looked at me like that? Did it always skip a beat when he touched me, steadying my steps as we crossed the steep pass?

But my feet weren’t on the stones now, instead I was almost weightless. Floating. But he had caught me. Hadn’t he caught me? The relief in his eyes as his arms encircled my waist before I had stumbled backwards off the cliff was a memory I would never forget. The terror and the joy entangled in that moment was not going to leave me any time soon.

I reached up, rubbing the windswept tears from my stinging eyes. He had caught me, then why did I feel like I was floating, no, falling. The sky, a cheerful mocking blue as I could feel the panic set in. Just the sky? Where was the mountain?

I tried to move, to see anything but that damned sky. The mountain was yesterday. Yes, that was right. Today, had been the door. The door? A small, plastic and metal door loomed in my peripheral vision. What was a door doing in the sky? What was I doing in the sky!? In my panic, I flailed, arms whipping, the pleasant sensation of floating gone as the reality of falling set in.

It was then that I remembered the man sitting next to me on the aeroplane. Not Him, a different man, angry and drunk from the small bottles the flight attendant had been plying him with. He said he wanted to get out, and he had. Taking me with him.

It was the door, the last thing I remembered before the rush of green and brown had turned everything black.