I awoke to the feeling of someone’s hand on my shoulder gently shaking me. As my eyes opened, I saw that I was laying on a wooden bench, its glossy varnish cool against my cheek.

“Mister? Mister, are you awake?”

Pushing myself upright, a young boy, perhaps five-years old, came into focus.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“Me?” the boy asks in return. “I’m Peter.”

“Where am I?”

Peter stands taller, pushing his shoulders back and puffing out his chest with pride. “You’re in Her Majesty’s royal waiting room.” He gestures around him and I take in the narrow hallway. Aside from the bench I was sitting on, it was fairly empty, save for several pink curtains that hung in front of three glass windows opposite me. I didn’t feel like pushing them aside to look out the window to get my bearings. I was too busy staring at the floor, processing what Peter had just said.

“I’m sorry,” I say, “did you say ‘Her Majesty?’”

Peter nods in reply and points behind me to a space above my head. Turning, I laid my eyes upon a portrait, mounted to the wall, of Eleanor. She was dressed in a lavish gown of pink and gold. In her hand she held a shiny sword, raised victoriously to the sky. Eleanor was sitting atop a unicorn that was made of all the colors of the rainbow. The rainbow unicorn, who I should point out was smiling—which I didn’t know equines could do—was standing on the crushed, gory head of a dead dragon.

“That’s ‘Her Majesty?’” I ask.

The boy nods, his grin even wider. “That is our princess,” he says. “The savior of our world!”

“Can I see Her Majesty?”

The boy nods, but then pauses thinking and shakes his head. “Not right now,” he says. “Her Majesty is having her morning tea party. She only takes guests after all the tea and cookies are gone.”

“Oh,” I say, rubbing my eyes to get the sleep out. “That sounds very reasonable.” Peter smiles, pleased with himself. “But, how do you know if she is done with her tea?”

Peter pauses, thinking. “Because she’ll usually yell that she needs something.”

This all sounded very familiar. When you’re five—almost six—years old, playing with other kids is a foreign ritual. The political machinations of developing minds were always on display. Every child in these playgroups I would take Eleanor to had a mind of their own and they were beginning to form opinions and along with those opinions came very strong wills. There were many afternoons where playtime would end and Eleanor would be in tears because someone wouldn’t want to play her game. One day, so-and-so would be Eleanor’s bestest friend in the whole wide world and the next day, the same little girl or boy would be the worstest person in the whole wide world.

“While you wait,” Peter began to say, “would you like to hear about how Her Majesty saved the world?”

“Oh, I would like that very much,” I reply.

Peter sits down next to me on the bench and begins with what many stories begin with:

“Once upon a time, out of the darkness came a little girl. Her name was Ella of Nor and she hadn’t come from this world.

“When the elders asked where she came from, she spoke of a mother who had died and of a sad man who sent her here.” I feel a little tug on my heart with the mention of my role in her story.

Peter continues, “When the elders asked what she was, she told them that she was a princess. The elders had never heard of this word and when they asked Ella of Nor what a princess was, she told them of lands far, far away with a princess that ruled alongside beasts and of a princess that lived in the water with flippers instead of feet and a princess that fired lasers from their fingers.” Peter gestures with his fingers, making pew-pew sounds.

“Ella of Nor told us what a princess was and having never met a princess before, we decided that she should still be a princess here. She told us that a princess helps to save kingdoms and when we asked what a kingdom was she told us of high towering walls and big beds and lots of food and so we built her a kingdom.” Peter pauses his story and looks up at me. “Do you like the kingdom we built?”

“Oh, yes,” I reply. “This hallway is great.”

Peter smiles and continues his story. “And so, once the kingdom was built with all the high towering walls and big beds and lots of food, the elders asked Her Majesty, ‘Now that you have a kingdom, what was it that the kingdom needed to save it from?’ Ella of Nor was quiet for a while and when she spoke, she told them of terrible beasts that she called dragons; monsters that could destroy a kingdom with a single fiery breath. We had never seen such beasts, but Ella of Nor was sure that they existed, so she went on a quest with her trusty companion, Rainbow Cuddle Glitter.”

I point at the unicorn in the painting behind me. “Is that Rainbow Cuddle Glitter?”

Peter nods. “Yes. Rainbow Cuddle Glitter has the magical ability to change from a unicorn into a great big, beautiful rainbow. And just for good measure, he can fly too. He’s such a useful friend.”

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“Is it really the color of the rainbow?”

Peter smiles. “Uh-huh. Every week, the elders paint her all the colors of the rainbow.”

“Is it really a unicorn?” Peter smiles and nods. “With a real horn?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “The elders borrowed it from a goat.”

“So, Ella of Nor, left to defeat the dragon?”

“Yes,” Peter said as he continued the story. “After traveling far and wide, Ella of Nor finally did find dragons. And they were just as she had described them; frightening, terrible, evil beasts. The dragons were very ugly, with scaly leathery wings, long sharp claws, huge bulging eyes, pointy teeth, tails like huge serpents, and their hair was gross. One of the biggest of these dreadful beasts landed on Ella of Nor’s head, knocking her off Rainbow Cuddle Glitter with its big fluffy dragon wings and evil black claws and scaly leathery skin. Ella of Nor’s trusty companion, Rainbow Cuddle Glitter, was brave enough to try and save her, but he couldn’t defeat the dragons, not on his own.

“And that’s when Dandelion and his fairy warriors appeared to help. They woke Ella of Nor up and together they formed a plan to trap all the dragons in a magical net and then kill them one by one. The very last dragon escaped the magical net and Ella of Nor and Rainbow Cuddle Glitter chased it down, stabbing it through the eye and killing it dead.

“Victorious, Ella of Nor came back, riding Rainbow Cuddle Glitter. Ella of Nor was hanging on to his back; clinging for dear life. When the elders asked what happened she told them this tale of her heroic deeds.”

I laughed, shaking my head, imagining what had actually happened given that Eleanor had never ridden a horse. Peter is quiet, so I ask, “Is that the end?”

“Oh,” Peter exclaimed, smacking himself in the forehead with the palm of his hand, “I forgot!” He pauses, straightening himself up, gesturing resolutely with his hands. “The end.”

Before I can ask another question, I can hear a familiar voice shouting in a familiar yell, “BRING ME MY VISITORS!”

“It’s time!” Peter hops down off the bench and begins to head towards a door at one end of the hallway. He gestures for me to follow. “C’mon, c’mon!”

When we get to the door, Peter leans into it, pushing it open slowly with his slight frame. When I step inside, I can see Eleanor sitting regally on a dais. A crown of flowers sits atop her head. Like most times in her original world she is dressed in many different shades of pink. On her right rests a staff—or a wand—it’s top ornamented with a glittery star symbol. In her left hand she holds a yellow rose.

Her face is set sternly, playing the part of a serious princess. As her eyes focus on me they widen. “Daddy!” she throws down the rose and runs to me, the crown of flowers bouncing on her head. She crushes me around the waist in a fierce embrace.

“Eleanor,” I whisper in relief, bending down to kiss the top of her head.

“It’s Ella of Nor,” Peter whispers next to me, attempting to correct, but Eleanor is talking a million miles an hour.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy. Oh, how I missed you. I didn’t know where I went. I didn’t know where you went. But I’m here and you’re here and how wonderful it is! How did you get here? Do you know how I got here? I woke up and I was here and no one knew where you were. But then they made me a princess and do you like my kingdom? This—” she throws her arms wide “—is my throne room! The old people are still making the throne, but do you like it?”

“It’s wonderful, Eleanor,” I say, squatting down so I’m at her eye level. “But what is going on?”

“I’m a princess,” Eleanor responds. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Yes,” I reply, “I heard the story, but that’s just it: it’s a story.”

“I know.” Eleanor’s eyes grow large as she leans closer to whisper, “They’ve never heard of stories before.”

Peter furrows his brow in confusion. “What’s a story?”

“It’s make believe,” I reply.

“What is make believe?” Peter asks.

“See?” Eleanor laughs. “Isn’t it wonderful? I can be anything I want! I can say anything I want and they believe me. This never happened at home or at school. I would tell Hazel—she’s the one that stole my snack—about something and she would call me a liar! But not here!”

“What is make believe?” Peter asks again.

“It’s pretend,” I tell him.

“But what’s pretend?” Peter’s voice is rising in pitch. His eyebrows are pinched together and I can hear his brain whirling as he tries to understand these foreign concepts.

“It’s a fiction, a story, something imaginary,” I reply. “Do you know what a lie is?”

“No,” said Peter. “All that the elders teach is what is and what is known.”

“Eleanor,” I say, taking her by the shoulder, “look at me.” She does, cocking her head to the side and meeting my gaze with one filled with defiance. “I didn’t mean to send you here, but I’m here to save you and bring you home.”

“But I’m a princess here,” she says, crossing her arms and sticking out her lower lip in a pout. “Princesses don’t need saving.”

“Listen, Eleanor,” I tell her. “I’m not sure where or when we are, but I think you’ve done enough damage to whatever their culture is. Come on. Let’s go.”

“I’m not going,” she says firmly.

“Eleanor, this isn’t your home. Come home with me.”

“But here I can be a princess!”

I take her by the arm and start to drag her to the door. Peter is frozen in place, not understanding what is happening.

Eleanor screams and scratches at my arm with her free hand. “Guards! Guards!” she yells.

A side door in the throne room opens and two men step inside. Both are dressed identically in similar sized, but ultimately ill-fitting outfits because one was tall and skinny and the other short and overweight. They bowed at the waist, appearing perplexed at the scene before them. “Your majesty?” the short one inquires.

“Guards,” Eleanor says, “this is a bad man!” She points accusatively towards me.

They don’t move. Instead the tall guard asks, “What is a bad man?”

“He was trying to hurt me!” she yells.

“Why would he try to hurt you?” the short guard asks as he tries unsuccessfully to roll up the too long shirt sleeves of his too tight uniform.

“He was trying to take me away!” Eleanor screams at them, throwing her crown of flowers to the floor and smashing it underfoot in her tantrum.

“Why was he going to take you away?” the tall guard asks.

I throw my hands up and start to back away from Eleanor, the guards and Peter. “I’ll go,” I told them. “But Eleanor, I want you to come back home. Please come back with me. I’m sorry for what I did and I love you.”

“Bye-bye, Daddy, I love you,” she says in response, waving at me dismissively.

Sighing, I give up, turning my back to her and walking away.

“But what is a story,” I can hear Peter ask. “Do the elders know what a story is? Do they?”