A/N:
Ok, here's the deal. They don't allow much for a summary, and mine is really bad. But, I wrote this story, which is on fanfiction in the fairytale section, called Crush. It one of my favorites, and I've always planned to write a sequel. Well, since Crush got such great reviews, and my reviewers requested a sequel, and I now have the time (finally!), I'm writing the sequel. If you're reading this as a stand alone, know that Princess Elaina grew up as Elaine. Her mother was going to kill her because of a prophecy so her father, the king of Darwin hid her away with a witch. Elaine eventually meets Prince Jon of caraway, while working as a storyteller in that town, and they become friends. Elaine is put under an enchantment of sleep (sleeping beauty style, only darker). There is a threat of elaine's beautiful princess sister Rene marrying Prince Jon, though Jon loves Elaine of course, and mayhem and misunderstanding ensues of course. I'd not be upset if you read it… anyway, Damian is kinda like Elaine's fairy god father, and is prince jon's mentor. I think knowing all this should get ya through this story. If not, ask questions, or you can always read Crush… ok, back to the deal I promised at the first, I love writing these characters, these stories, but the fervor to write them fades if there are no reviews. If you are reading this, and like it, hate it, think it could be improved… I want to know! I'm an aspiring author who wishes one day to be published and will need all the help I can get. I know this is a long author's note. So sorry, just thought you might need some clarification on some things. Now, to the story…
"Cassius," spoke a very tall, very burly man with more hair than any man should really have. Actually, he yelled the name. Rationally, Prince Jon had no idea who the hairy man was speaking to, er, yelling at. So, he rolled back over on his hard, smelly pallet, and attempted to slip back into sleep. But it was not to be.
He was ripped from the hard smelliness by his shirtfront and thrown up against a cold wall. His eyes were wide open now, and resting on the grizzled face of the hairy man. Chipped and rotting teeth snarled close to the prince's nose and he wriggled it back in disgust at the smell that shot from the man's open mouth. "Cassius you worthless whelp of a boy! Get your lazy arse off that bed! The Princess is comin' today, we're to keep watch." The hairy man let Prince Jon's shirt go and the prince fell down in a slump. Finding his legs, he stood and threw his shoulders back, trying to regain a modicum of dignity. He surveyed his surroundings and remembered awakening in this place last night.
He had thought he was suffering from one of his wife's nightmares, but, as it turned out, he was not. This was reality, hard, cold, foul-smelling reality.
And this man was calling him Cassius.
And it seemed right. But he was not Cassius. He was Jon… Prince Jon, he thought. Wasn't he? He knew he was Jon, but the Prince part seemed fuzzy. The only thing that was truly clear in his mind was the fact that he had a wife. She was tall and strong and beautiful. She was fiery and stubborn… and he loved her. And miracle of all miracles, she loved him too.
But where was she? Why was he here, in this great hall, with these soldiers, of which he seemed to be too. Did they share a hut, some cottage, in a small village outside of this castle? No, he could not see her in a hut. A cottage yes, strangely, a clean, pristine, vibrantly colored cottage, that grew out of the forest like it belonged there, where every season seemed perfect, immaculate.
Yet he saw her in a castle too. Vaguely. She wore simple yet elegant gowns and he could not touch her for all the eyes that constantly watched them.
He saw her in his minds eye in a virginal white dress. She was smiling a smile that was just for him and her dark curly hair was scattered with pearls. She preferred pearls to diamonds. He could remember that detail, but no other.
He saw her in their bed. It was a rich, sumptuous bed, hung all around by deep red curtains and accentuated on all corners by carved mahogany posts. The bedclothes were light cream with shots of gold, rumpled, and she lay sweetly in his arms as they fell asleep together.
Then he woke up alone, and unsure of himself. He was Prince Jon. He was! He yelled this in his head, wishing he could yell it aloud. Instead, he pulled a shirt of chain mail that lay near his pallet over his head and followed the line of soldiers out the door and onto a very cold parapet. His breath puffed in small clouds in front of him and one of the other soldiers, a shorter man with a heavy sword attached to his hip, and a hairline that was rigidly receding, slapped Prince Jon on the back and spoke quietly and quickly.
"Are you a fool Cassius? To walk out of those walls without your sword and bow and arrows is death. You know this! Or you should by now. Go back, I will cover for you, but hurry."
There was only a slight confused pause as Prince Jon stared at this new found savior, before he turned on his booted heel and ran back into the great hall where he had slept. He went back to the pile of blankets he had slept in and did indeed find a sword and bow and arrows. They were rough and showed signs that they had been much used. He slung the arrows and bow around his shoulder, and clasped the sword at his hips. Pulling the sword from it's scabbard, he noticed that it was much lighter than the swords he had used when… when what? When he had been a prince? Wasn't he still a prince? Or was he Cassius? NO! Rebelled his mind, he was not Cassius, he could not be. Cassius, would have gripped this sword with ease, feeling it heavy and reliable in his hand. The sword was light and unpredictable to Prince Jon. There was no comforting weight to it, nothing to swing with. This was not his sword, but it most certainly belonged to whoever this Cassius fellow was…
A horrible thought hit Jon as he walked toward the door, putting the sword back into its halter. If he had awakened in Cassius' bed, had Cassius awakened in his bed… with his wife?
Had she known that the man in her bed was not her husband? Or, like the men here believed he was Cassius, had she believed that Cassius was her Prince Jon?
It was possible; though Jon did not wish to consider it, it was very possible. The chill of the outside air hit his face once more as he rushed along the parapet, following the sound of the men's whispered words. It took a moment to recognize the short balding man who had reminded him to get the weapons. Sliding silently up beside the man, he dipped down and murmured a thank you.
"You ain't missed nothin' yet, Cassius. Captain Brady is still discussing our daily procedures with Lord Wellington. I doubt you'll be sittin out here with the rest of us though. Sent on one of those special assignments no doubt. They get more frequent by the day," said the man. He turned his head to look at the man he believed to be Cassius, and he really looked at him. "You're different somehow today. You haven't made one single ugly jeer or quip. You ok Cass?"
"I… I'm a little out of sorts today. This is going to sound strange, but humor me. What might I call you? You name, what is your name?"
"A little out of sorts indeed! I don't believe I've ever heard you utter one full sentence without it containing some insult or vulgar word! And you've never cared to know no one's name before!" The man narrowed his eyes to tiny suspicious slits. "It can't be that you took too much drink last night. You take more than you should every night. I'm not your special assignment… are I?"
Jon did not know how to reply to this. Special assignments? No, he most certainly was not this man Cassius, nor would he want to be by the sound of it. "Just know this," spoke Jon, "from this day forward, I am a different man. And if you tell me your name… I will tell you mine."
The man laughed as silently as he could. Silence was necessary when Duke Wellington was addressing Captain Brady. "I know your name boy! Every one knows the feared fool Cassius."
"I am not he," said Jon, knowing it was probably not a wise thing to say, but feeling that he had to have someone with which to confide in, and that this man seemed as good as any other around. "My name is Jon," he spoke, deftly excluding his princely title from the introduction. "And now I believe it is your turn."
The old man looked at the man he knew to be Cassius with new eyes. The man before him, though it was the man his memory told him was the sneaky assassin for the Duke, was so different from his memory of him, that he was momentarily put off. What was this? A trick of magic? The man believed in magic. Quite frankly, he knew it existed, despite what the Duke swore. "Maxim. Call me Max. Though… I haven't been called by any thing but 'you there' since I joined this accursed army." He had never before related his dislike of his situation to anyone. To do so would be suicide. But he trusted this Jon who was supposed to be Cassius.
Jon had many questions he had decided to put to Max, but was silenced by the loud and harsh voice of Captain Brady. "The Duke just got word today that we are to have a very distinguished guest at Castle Wellington. A princess. It was a rather unexpected visit, so your duties have been changed until further notice. Guards one through thirty are to take up their normal posts along the fortress walls, guards thirty-one through thirty-six are to now take posts along the watchtower until further notice, and guards thirty-seven to fifty are to go with Guard zero to accompany the Princess from Cliff Village to the castle. Take your posts men," growled the captain in a voice that broached no arguments.
Jon turned quickly to Max, "Max, which guard am I?" The man might have laughed had this strange man, who was supposed to be Cassius, not sounded so worried, had there not been such urgency and confusion in his question.
"The guard that is not a guard I'm afraid. Guard Zero."
The prince frowned at this revelation as Max was joined by a group of thirteen armored men, looking toward the prince expectantly, waiting for orders. Max gave him a nudge as the silence stretched out longer than it should have.
Jon was supposed to give a command. So he said the only one he thought appropriate. "Prepare the horses. Meet me at the gates in fifteen minutes." He tried to put coldness in his voice, a sense of detachment that must belong to the tone of a guard entitled Zero. He was afraid he had been quite unsuccessful. He grabbed Max's arm before he took could scurry away to "prepare the horses." "Max… I have no idea where Cliff Village is,"
This boy was most certainly not Cassius. There was no doubt about it now. Max wondered how long it would take the others to recognize this. If they even would, the blind idiots. "You are not Cassius. It is quite plain. But it must not be to the others." He pulled Jon down a flight of steep stairs and into a busy courtyard; leading him toward the gate he was sure Jon would not know the location of. "Act confidant, cold, as if all of this is below you. Do not show fear. If you can do this, then I can help you with details: what to say, where to go. Do you trust me?"
Who else could Jon trust? There was no one. "Yes, I trust you."
"I cannot help you much boy. No one but Cassius and the Duke truly know what it is that Cassius does." With that warning, he steered Jon toward the large wooden gate and told him how to get to Cliff Village, and how long it would take as they waited on the other guards and the horses.
"If this guy is here, Damian, then it makes sense that Jon is somewhere else. Possibly in the place that this guy came from!" Elaine was pacing the library. She had refused to stay in bed and Damian would not let her be alone. The situation was too strange. Besides, the man that was Prince Jon was not Prince Jon, and they had to figure out why, and how this had happened.
"There is a way," spoke Damian tentatively. "Elaine, there is a way in which you could contact the prince. If you were able to, then it would prove that he is indeed not the man here, and you would be able to speak to him, to find out if he is alright, and if so, where he is. I hate to ask it of you… but I think it might be the only way."
Elaine's eyes widened and she sat heavily down on a couch. "I can't Damian. Surely there are other ways. We… we can talk to the imposter! Torture the answers out of him if necessary!"
"Don't be absurd Elaine. You know we can't do that. Talking to him would be the most direct way of getting what we want I suppose. But… I don't trust this man. He has shown himself to be callous and unfeeling. He is not the man your Jon is. I would rather him feel safe in his new found glory and role in life. I would rather him believe that we all think you've gone insane. At least for now anyway. Until we're sure."
"Damian," spoke Elaine in a small voice, "anything might go wrong. I've not been the same since that infernal princess put me under that blasted enchanted sleep. At least my dreams have not been the same. I've had insomnia, I've been plagued by nightmares, I feel it would be dangerous for me to try and reach Jon through his dreams. I distinctly remember Jon telling me that you told him that the potion that connects two people's dreams is quite dangerous, fatal at times," she ended defiantly.
"Yes, it is, but only when taken in large doses. You would not require much at all. For one, your dreams are quite open anyway. It is a result of the enchanted sleep. And secondly, though six months has elapsed since Jon drank the potion so that he could enter your dreams to find you, the door of connection never entirely closes. And if there is an open door between your two dream worlds, you can be sure it is not a one way deal. Yes, I'll only give you a bit of the potion."
"Damian, I don't want to," she said with stubbornness in her eyes, in her voice, and pushing her chin up to new heights. "I will not."
"You are scared dear girl. And you have every reason to be. But as I see it, you have two options. You can forget the man you knew, and become acquainted with the man you now have, never knowing what happened to the other, or you can dare to face your fears and attempt to contact the man you love, attempt to save him. Remember what he did for you Elaine, remember what he braved: An enchanted princess, nightmares that were not his own, four ghosts, your almost death, and four, very difficult choices." He wanted her full attention, and she was staring quite blankly at a pillow she had pulled onto her lap. "Look at me young lady," he said with undeniable authority in his voice. "Four choices. Hard choices too. Need I repeat them? No, don't answer, I believe you need a reminder. One kiss to awaken you so that you would hate him, an option coupled with the dire warning that should you two come together, people might one day suffer, be put in danger. Two kisses would awaken you and take away all of your memory of him, giving our prince two choices: one, convince you that you are his wife, his lover, and take advantage of you, or two, refuse to take you as a friend again, saving those that might be endangered if you two were to come together."
"Damian, please, I know about all this," pleaded Elaine.
"No, you will listen, and remember what he did for you, what he may have sacrificed for you." Damian would not be denied; he spoke louder than before. "Three kisses to awaken you and place things exactly the way they were before the enchanted sleep. There would be no guaranteed that you would love him, but it would give you back your free will, give you control of your life and emotions. Four kisses… to kiss you four times must have been very much a temptation, as you may now very well know. He loved you dearly at that point, but had no idea, indeed had clues to the negative, of how you felt for him. Four kisses would have made you love him, no matter if you had before or not. It would have given him his hearts desire, but would have taken away your free will, and sealed the fate of his people, for surely no good can come from such a selfish action."
"But he kissed me three times Damian! He kissed me thrice and gave me back my free will! And do you know what I did with my free will? I decided that I loved him. No, I did not decide it then. I knew it before then, but had been too scared to admit it. But I decided to fight for him. I should have let him go, but I couldn't. Where he was not selfish, I was. Now my mother knows I live, now she will not rest until I've been killed, or she's died trying. And Jon will fight for me, to save me. And his armies will fight to protect me. And some will die. Some will be ripped from their families, their homes. The warnings for the kisses were right Damian. Our being together will only bring death to others, to people we should protect," she finished with a sob, a single tear rolling down her pale cheek.
"Elaine, sweet girl, I did not mean to make you feel guilty over taking happiness when it was offered you. I do not begrudge you for it. In fact, I applaud you for it. You are a beautiful and wise woman and will be a wonderful queen some day. I just wanted to remind you of the king that must rule at your side. I do not remember what your prince Jon looks like, but you paint a beautiful picture of a loving and noble man that is just not apparent in this imposter.
"He suffered just as you do now when he could not find you. He yelled and fumed at me when I thought only of helping him and protecting you. It is the same now. And I will tell you what I told him. You must do all in your power if you wish to save your love. But you must first find the courage to do what you might not like to do, to face truths that might be unbearable." He stood and put a hand on Elaine's trembling shoulder and rubbed in gently, letting go with a soft, comforting squeeze. "I will go to my house and retrieve the potion. If you have decided on following my course of action, on contacting Jon through his dreams, then you will meet me in your old chambers after dinner tonight. Do not let Prince Jon, er, the imposter, know our plans. Stay here, stay away from him, and let him think you insane. Tis better that way. Believe me."
With that, Damian walked out of the library, closing the door behind him with a soft thump. Elaine did not look up, but the sleeve that hid her eyes grew damper with each painful beat of her heart.