Ah, there she is again. Standing on the edge of the white tower, her matching white dress flowing in the gentle breeze. She has deigned to grace this world with her beauty today.

The garden blooms in her sight, as if the flowers are greeting her like they welcome the sun. The new arrangement of the garden around the tower presents its glory to her.

Does it please her? Oh, she smiles a little, just enough. It does! The garden holds its breath, to keep the moment just a little longer, to strain to give her the best image for another minute, another second.

A pair of songbirds flutter by and break the symmetry, but their spontaneity and song bring their own brightness. The tension is over and the garden relaxes.

She laughs a little as the birds visit her balcony, the high sweet tones are touched with such sadness. If only the birds could take it away, but they cannot. They will not. For She is inviolate, her sanctity must not be soiled, must not be changed.

Her heart does not turn towards me, but that is fine. I will not want her if she does not turn to me, I cannot believe she does. I can only hope. I will not touch her, I only look and wait. My patience will stretch as long as necessary, or even forever if she will not. If she wants someone else, then so be it. I will support her.

I will not break the Glass.


I return from the balcony. The garden around the tower is too bright for my eyes. The sun would shade itself if I so say it, but I think the flowers deserve it more than I.

Just wearing the dress will satisfy him, I know. For all the power in the world, he is simple to understand.

And I know. But yet I cannot bring myself to open to him, to go to him, no matter how the world depends on it. He will not take me, I know he can change my mind if he so wishes, make me love him. It is within his power. If only he would. But he leaves me to myself, cruelly giving me my freedom. And my heart rebels at the thought, I cannot love him as he does me.

The matters of the heart are not logical. Even when I know no one else can give me what he can, even if I know his love is the purest and brightest of all, even when I know the warping of the world is due to me. Yet, I cannot love him.

If I wish, I can walk the world, or fly, or simply be wherever I wish. Only for the asking. I can have anything, raise mountains and cities, only for the asking. No harm can come to me, anything I want is for the taking. I am free to leave any time, to go anywhere, yet I am a prisoner of the tower.

For it is not I who am bound to him, but he who is bound to me. Even when I am alone, if I call, he will be there.

Wherever I go, the tower follows.


When did I realize this? The tower has been here all this time, even if it wasn't a tower before. People have always said I was a beautiful girl, but they were only speaking his words. Perhaps I have always been beautiful and that made him love me, or perhaps he made me this way, but the question is pointless. It is like the chicken and the egg.

He loves my beauty as much as every part of me, and beauty now means the same thing as me. In a way I am beauty.

When did it become a tower? Perhaps it was the time when I realized what his presence meant. I asked for the tower, and it has been here ever since.

Words are meaningless, things are meaningless. Even people are meaningless. He will change anyone I ask, he will build entire cities of people or destroy them if I desire. People will saying anything I want to hear, and they will even be right. Nothing means anything if he will change everything.

Everything but this tower of my heart. I can look like anything I want, be anything I want, but my heart and my mind remain my own no matter how I scream or cry. I plead for him to take my heart in his hands, to end this cruelty. But he will not break the Glass Tower. Maybe I should jump from the tower, but I am also a selfish girl, I like living too much to let my life go.

And I fear what may happen to the world should I ask to die.


Ah, Raven, poor poor Raven.

Then, I did not yet understand what the tower meant. I thought I was like a captive princess, helplessly awaiting her shining knight to come to her rescue. I asked for a hero. The most perfect hero who could take me away from him.

That was Raven. Raven came and swept me off my feet. Raven took me out of the tower and back into the world. Raven defeated him. Raven loved me and I loved him. I did not see the signs.

The hero showed me around, we went to see everyone and they cheered the hero for saving the world. I was happy and so was Raven. The hero was given a hero's welcome, and all was perfect. And I began to suspect.

Raven was concerned. Of course he was. He loved me. The beautiful captive princess who foolishly asked for a hero to come like in a fairy tale. Nothing could stand in his way, under his bright armour and white horse. And his princess was now troubled by something that she could not explain, did not want to.

The people worried about their queen. Oh yes, how selfish I was, I even thought I could be a queen! And so conveniently, I somehow became queen. Turns out I'm long lost royalty, discovered just in time to take the place of the good queen with her ailing health. Of course my subjects worried about me. How could they not? After all, it IS a fairy tale and the princess is not following the script.

I am still the captive princess in the tower of her heart. Only now, the whole world is my tower.

I asked to go back. I asked that everything be undone, and so it was.


The girl stands at the top of the tower. The rain falls around and on her, staining the slim dress with its wetness. An insult to her beauty.

She has not asked it to stop and she does not appear to dislike it, so the storm continues to pour. Her grief and sadness are all too real and the storm mirrors her crying heart.

There is no thunder, I know she has no fury left in her. But the unending rain continues. She cries.

Her storm is both gentle and harsh. The soft rain lashes at the tower and the garden. Even the flowers cower beneath the feather-light touch of water drops.

Whether the storm will pass or not, I will wait. I will not ease the rain in her heart. I cannot touch her. Must not. I can only wait for her.

I will not break the Glass.