Dreaming
During a stay with Princess Dorothea, the Chosen One and Kaleilan hero Tia is catapulted into the reality of Prince Valdo's pain. (Tia x Valdo)
Having gone to bed with a head full of the night's events, one could hardly help dreaming of them. In her sleep, she smiled. She was thinking of the arm that had been about her waist, the smile which her friend had been more and more frequently sharing, and perhaps one would not blame her if she fancied a certain light in this friend's eye—a most positive change from the past months, and one which made her heart both happy for him and leaping in its own private hopes. The music and the twirling pairs of dancers, the sight of an old sweetheart and a growing friend with a sparkling and dainty crown spinning amongst the rest, and an easy peace in the affairs of the world and the affairs of the heart… she let her head rest upon her partner's chest, and in her dreams what she had second-guessed that evening became more marked—a galloping heartbeat taking flight, matching her own… The music began to fade, it was time to separate from him and curtsey, but in the silence just before she looked up to see his face—
Tia woke in a cold sweat, trembling in the trundle bed which had been nestled close to Princess Dorothea's bed. Guri Guri was lying on her chest, staring at her with a curious expression. She was reaching a clammy palm up to pat his head when again a sharp, pained moan crackled through the silence of the dusky chamber. Springing up from her royally outfitted pillows, she startled the cat—he leapt to the frame of the closed double doors. From that position, he studied her carefully. Gripping her sheets, Tia's first thoughts went in the direction of the dungeon she knew lay below the castle. Fro shouldn't have said anything about ghouls, Tia meditated, shaking her head.
Taking a deep breath and mustering up her courage, she pushed her sheets aside and glanced to her friend, in fluffy comfort—she had not awoken at the sound. Did I imagine it? Tia wondered, pausing with the Book of Prophecy in her arms. She listened carefully: Dorothea's gentle breathing, the ticking of the clock in the corner, the sound of a soldier's clinking armor as he walked by. When that last sound was gone, she began to turn back to her bed, her eyelids drooping despite her doubts.
"No, no! That I should be a witness to-!" A choking gasp rattled Tia's very heart, and she clutched the Book of Prophecy to her chest. Should she call on the spirits? But then, what was happening? She could feel the cold tile on the soles of her feet, the edges of the book pressing firmly on her skin. It was not a dream.
Straightening her shoulders, Tia looked to the door. I will get to the bottom of this. What have I to fear? She opened one of the doors, making not a sound on the well-oiled hinges, and she attempted to shoo Guri Guri away. After some persistence on his part, he seemed to shrug his furry shoulders, and wash his hands, or rather paws, of it all. Tia caught one last glimpse of a blissfully sleeping Dorothea, happily exhausted from the ball and her dances, before shutting the door.
The audience chamber was haunting in the middle of the winter night—a cavernous room bathed in the light from the reflective, fresh fallen snow outside, each footfall echoing on the well-glossed floor and hazy shadows from the titanic columns obscuring her view. Distressed whines bounced, muffled, from every direction to where Tia stood. There is most certainly someone out there. But where? Stepping carefully down the sides of the room, pressing an ear against each of the doors, she heard nothing. As she entered one of the corridors, hurriedly stepping onto the long carpet for the relief of her bare feet, she heard the cry once more. With a start and a shudder she followed the hint of a low moan to the last room, always locked on her usual visits. In this close proximity, she could see that the door was just ajar.
Lifting a hand to the dark paneled door, she hesitated. In a moment came a voice which had become very familiar to her since it was freed of malice, but now was flooded with fear, "Hate her! She, my enemy?! I could never—never—a world without-!"
Throwing aside the door, Tia leapt into Prince Valdo's bedchamber, uncertain of what she would find. Some kind of monster, some kind of, yes, the thought returned to her, ghoul—but instead, she found a very large four-poster bed, with an occupant curled up tightly, appearing very small and even now curling tighter and smaller, as if to disappear. Something about this scene seemed utterly more terrifying to Tia, and she rushed to her friend's side, pressing her cool hands on his flushed cheeks. "Valdo! Valdo, wake up! It's just a bad dream! Just a dream!"
Red eyes snapped open, wide with terror. The prince started and pulled away blindly from Tia's touch, while he first yelped out, "Just a dream?! Just a dream?!"
The chest beneath the silken nightshirt began to slow its heaving, and the phrase came out again, "Just a dream! Just a dream!"
Tia leaned over the edge of the bed and held onto his arm gently but firmly. Weakly, he said, "Just a dream. Just a dream…"
Falling back upon the mess of pillows behind him, Prince Valdo murmured in a broken voice, "Just a dream?"
"Just a dream, Valdo," Tia said soothingly. She knelt by the side of the bed and watched him carefully. She laced her fingers with his, and he gripped hers. His hand shook ever so slightly.
Staring at the cloth ceiling of his bed, Valdo whispered, "When will they stop, Tia? When?"
"I don't know," she squeezed his fingers, trying to calm herself as well. He had mentioned his nightmares, but she had never seen him in the throes of one. He was utterly exhausted from the battle which had raged in his mind. His breath came in varying shallow gasps and deep, slow breaths.
"I won't ask you to try to stop them with your book—I know it doesn't work that way. And it is my fault—"
"It's not your fault, Valdo!" Tia interceded quietly but resolutely.
"I—I only ask," Valdo slowly turned his face to her, and his eyes were brimming with hot tears which spilled into his ears and across his nose, "that-that you help me with your friendship. Don't abandon me for these thoughts—I beg you!"
With a heart overflowing with compassion and close to breaking, Tia held her friend close, smoothing his drenched and wild hair, "I will never abandon you. No one is a lost cause who does not want to be."
She had struck such a tender chord in the Prince's heart that he sobbed into her shoulder, and would have chastised himself for this weakness if it had not been for the specific soul who held his so fragile one so carefully and caringly. "How do you manage this generosity—this compassion with every single, imperfect one of us?!"
"You speak as though I were not human! But I promise, I am just as human, just as flawed as you. I've gone through much too," Tia pressed her face to his shoulder and rubbed his back. She only moved from him, and then still holding his hand, once he had settled down. Tia lay over the covers next to him and began to quietly ask him questions, "How big is your library? How many times have you read your favorite book? Who's your favorite character? Have you ever written anything? I was working on a novel…"
As he murmured the answers to these, his breathing began to slow and steady, his eyelids drifted down over his eyes, windows to the soul so tortured they were only now beginning to clear of the smoky grime left from his possession. When he would not answer her question about whether he liked stories in which characters fall in love, or have hope for love, even though she repeated it, she let go of his hand. Getting up from the bed and pulling the covers about the prince carefully, Tia regarded his face. She had never doubted him when he staggered to life once more with his story of a demon, for she knew it to be all too true. And even if she had not witnessed it, she felt the stirring of trust in her heart. He was a good man, she was finding this true as she spent time with him, and he would not lose himself again if she could help it.
Sure he was asleep, she tucked the sheets about his shoulders once again and planted a swift, soft kiss on his forehead. Before her lips rose she heard a tentative whisper with the distinct sound of a grateful and nervous smile, "Those are one of my favorite kinds of stories..."
Startled, Tia drew away a step. She saw the tired boy with large arcs under his closed eyes and the smallest, drowsy smile which fought against heavy, painful feelings. There was hope in that gesture—there was hope. A little smile of her own grew on her face as she carefully closed the door, peeking in until the last moment. He will be fine tonight. Perhaps before brunch with Dorothea I'll walk with him in the garden and greenhouses. Get him out of this cold, shadowy room and into the bright, fresh day. Yawning, she thought, Now to my own rest…
Swiveling about with a heart fluttering in just the softest way, it froze in fright! Tia stifled a laugh as she picked up a lurking Guri Guri and first held him close for comfort, though he tried to squirm free in protest, and then danced about with him to Princess Dorothea's room.
Swathed in a soothing sleep with the blessings of his friend, one could hardly wonder that his dreams turned in a pleasanter direction. In the turns of the dance they had shared that evening, and the sensation of that beloved girl's head resting on his chest, and her hand in his, he found his mind and thoughts calmed and happy… and hopeful.