The ride to Cliff Village was short and tense. The guards were wary of the man they knew as Cassius, as Guard Zero. And he was wary of them. They were fierce and brutish, their long grimy hair matted into braids. Their faces were covered in tangled beards and every inch of exposed skin was covered in dirt. The men did not seem to mind their state of cleanliness; they did not even seem to notice it. It was their natural state of being. What was man without dirt under his fingernails and bits of meat between his teeth?
Prince Jon rode close to the soldier Maxim while trying to keep his distance at the same time. To show any favoritism or niceness of any sort would surely be folly with this foul bunch who expected nothing but foulness from him. But Prince Jon had never been a foul sort of person. He was intelligent and lively with a quick sense of humor. He was noble and kind and the most loyal of men. There were very few times when true fierceness had shown in his eyes. Very few times when his temper had been riled to the point of boiling and overflowing.
Prince Jon was attempting to have a sense of humor, a sense of adventure about this whole thing. He did however wonder, as he rode along with a half scowl, half grin firmly in place, why adventures seemed to assault him around every corner now, when a year ago, he'd not been able to find one if he had set one up himself.
It was his gypsy. He knew this. And he knew she would deny it. But ever since he had stepped into her cottage, and she into his life (glaring at him and demanding he leave her home that very instant), he had been plagued by an over abundance of adventure. But he could not think of her. For thinking of his wife brought smiles to his lips and, unbidden, tears to his eyes. It would not do for Guard Zero to be seen with either.
The village was small, and true to its name, settled serenely on a very high cliff. Prince Jon wondered vaguely and briefly about the safety of it until they approached the small but tidy inn located at the center of the village. Dismounting his steed, he walked with false confidence up to the innkeeper who was standing in the middle of his doorway.
"We have come to escort the Princess," spoke Jon in as much of a threatening monotone as possible.
"She has only just arrived sir," murmured the trembling innkeeper. "She is inside, warming herself by the fire in a private room. Shall I show you to her?"
"Yes." Then he turned to the guards behind him. "Do not stable the horses. I will not be long, and we will leave immediately." He turned to walk into the inn but turned around once more, as if remembering something else. "Prepare the princess's horse." It was a sentence he might have added lightly, adding an "oh yes, why don't you" at the beginning and an "as well" at the end. But he was no longer Prince Jon. He was Cassius, and Cassius, the prince figured, was not a man to talk conversationally or lightly.
The prince was ushered through a narrow and long hallway and shown to a large room at the hallway's end. He opened the door quickly, wasting no time with any action, and was granted the vision of a rather tall, cloaked figure standing in front of a scorching fire. She stood close to the flames, daring them to jump out at her; none of them seemed brave enough to accept her challenge. She pushed her cloak back, revealing long chestnut brown locks streaked with glistening strands of auburn.
"I've come to escort you to Castle Wellington," announced the prince to the princess's back.
She turned around, revealing perfectly chiseled features and the coolest blue eyes fringed in thick dark lashes. Her skin was milky white, her neck graceful, her lips rosy pink: she was perfection itself.
And Prince Jon knew her. He almost let out a cry of relief, for here was someone he knew, but his joy quickly sank as he realized that she would most likely see him as Cassius like everyone else did. And… did that make him truly Cassius? His mouth dropped open as he stared at her, his mind turned over and over in fear that she would not recognize him, and he lost all capability to speak.
Her perfect lips curled upward into a smile as she breathed one tiny word. "Brother," she said clearly, moving across the room to embrace him. He still could not speak, so she spoke in his stead. "My dear new brother Jon, how nice it is to see you." With a catch in her voice that sounded like laughter she added, "and how is your wife, my sister?"
"You know me…" was all our poor prince was capable of. But he was not dim witted, merely dulled by surprise, and his mind quickly began to work once more. "You know me. You. Elaine said that you… have magic." He ended with a scowl, grabbing his forearm in a threatening grip and forcing her to take a seat upon a nearby couch. "You, dear sister Rene, would not have anything to do with this would you?" There were not many times when his anger could become passionately inflamed, but the sight of his sister in law sitting and smiling up at him with a hint of superiority and malicious intent in her eyes sparked the flame of his temper that might rapidly turn into an uncontrollable fire if not quickly squelched.
Princess Rene thought briefly of playing dumb for a while, of teasing him, but a very angry man stood before her. She could see that he was figuring it all out for himself, and she could not have him jumping to conclusions. Yes, she would handle this as she would any business arrangement. "Yes, I have. I should say that I'm sorry to have so inconvenienced you, but I cannot, for I am not. My will was thwarted, and I will use any means necessary to gain my own end. Though it does seem a bit callous of me to have ripped you and my sister apart on your wedding night… it could not be helped."
"What have you done and why? What did you not get that you so sorely wanted Princess?"
"I want a husband," she stated plainly. "And the man I had chosen, did not choose me. You see, the Duke of Wellington is an extremely powerful and handsome man. He is not cruel, but he is sharp, he takes what he wants. He is realistic, he is strong, a warrior. I thought at first that this was the opposite of the type of man I desired. I wanted someone whom I could manipulate, control. But the duke intrigued me no end. I began to think that it might be quite the challenge to tame such a man. But my dilemma lies in the fact that he is untamable, or so he would have everyone believe." There was but a slight hint of a frown in her eyes that did not even touch her lips.
"Are you saying that the Duke of Wellington is the man who refused your hand in marriage?"
"Yes," was her rather terse answer. "But it was for a very unacceptable reason, which is where you come in dear brother. You see, the highest point of Wellington's castle is the watchtower. But it is not a structure in which guards keep watch. Rather, it houses a sleeping maiden. She is reportedly very beautiful with golden hair and eyes and rosy skin." Princess Rene looked as if she did not believe these claims, and that if they were indeed true, that they had no bearing on her at all. "Did you know that Wellington castle, and its dukedom do not originally belong to the current duke?" she asked, changing the subject abruptly. "No, he won them in battle. He fought hard and won defeated the original owner, gaining also his true goal: the watchtower and its living yet sleeping prize."
"What does this have to do with me Rene?"
"Wellington cannot enter the tower. The same magic that keeps the maiden sleeping, keeps him from entering. He has never even seen the chit and is madly in love with her, refusing to marry any but her." Now the princess really did sound offended. To be passed over for a sleeping maiden that the gentleman in question had never even see! She hoped the girl had warts… lots of them. She left her thoughts, for they would do no good in this case, and continued to explain the dilemma to prince Jon. "I need to wake the girl. As long as the enchantment holds over her, the enchantment holds over the duke. He is a sensible man under it all brother, and I'm quite sure that once she awakens and he sees how normal she really is, how like other silly girls she must be, he will cast her from his heart."
"Do you then love him Rene?"
"Do not mistake me Jon, I do not wish to step into that void in his heart, I truly do not believe he has one… but then again neither do I. I merely wish him to accept me as good enough to be his wife, to rule along side him." She added with a smile, "He is quite close to winning a war with the neighboring kingdom of Chermast. He will be king then. And I will be queen."
"I still don't understand where I fit into all of this Rene. Perhaps I'm a dullard, but please spell it out for me."
"Of course you're no dullard, I've simply not got to that part yet. You see, the duke is not a noble man. And a noble man is called for to break the curse: only one noble of heart may enter the slumbering maid's chamber, and only that man, needing most direly for her to awaken may lift the enchantment that holds her. You are noble. And now, you have a great need for the lady to awaken. For you will not resume your role as Prince Jon, husband to my silly older sister, until she has done so."
"What do you intend to do with the sleeping girl once I've wakened her?"
"Why I don't know. Oh don't worry; I won't kill her. No, murder is too messy, too complicated. I'll simply clear that hurdle once I reach it." She gave him a dazzling smile then held out her hand to him. "So brother, do we have a deal?"
Jon had no other option. If he wanted to see his gypsy again, he was going to have to fall into the desire of her sister. He would free the girl from her sleep. "We do sister. But I believe that you know how important it is to call me"
"Cassius, or Guard Zero," she interrupted. "Of course I know. I'm the one who initiated the spell." She flashed him yet another smile and took his hand from where it hung at his side, and pulled her arm through his. "I trust, young Cassius, that the trip back to Castle Wellington will be quite uneventful?"
"Yes Princess," answered the cold-eyed prince.
Elaine stood looking out her window at the setting sun. Intense oranges, pinks and purples spilled across the pale blue sky, and behind her, a deep midnight blue crawled towards the lowering orb and its blazing colors. She heard the soft footfalls and steady breathing of her godfather behind her.
"Are you ready?" It was not a question of whether she would do it or not. He knew she would. He knew when he left her to decide, that she would end up taking the dream potion. He had prayed for her. She would need his prayers, and her own, to save her from the nightmares that would follow her on this trip to discover her husband through his dreams.
"Yes," she said resolutely, in a voice that was little less than a hopeless breath. She waited to turn around until the sun and its train of colors had been consumed by the encroaching night. When all the sky was painted deepest blue, she turned and walked to her bed. She was dressed simply in a loose white shift that fell off one shoulder. Her hair was pulled back with a long vibrantly red silken scarf. It was wound once around her head then looped backwards to restrain her long dark curls.
Her prince had given it to her, saying that he had seen a bit of gypsy in it and knew she would look the part wearing it.
She lay down on the bed, forsaking any comfortable position, and for the first time, made eye contact with Damian. Without words, he came forward and lifted her head from the pillows it laid on. He stared at her gently, wishing that she could lead an uneventful life as she had always wished to do but seemed destined to forever miss.
"Think solely of him sweet girl. If you let your mind wander, your purpose and resolve will as well. If you stay firm in your thoughts of Prince Jon, then your nightmares will stay at bay; they will have no cracks to seep in through. Give them none princess. I cannot promise utter tranquility, and I will not give you the usual dose, for your dreams are strong already. You must not be scared. Are you scared?"
"Yes," she answered truthfully. "I've had troubles with sleep, with dreaming and nightmares since the enchantment. I am scared of this, though I will face it anyway."
"Stubbornness. Yes, that and courage will pull you through I believe. I will wait here for you to awaken. I will not sleep while you do."
Pushing the small wooden vile to her lips and tipping it forward, he watched as a steady stream of blue liquid flowed into her mouth. Pulling the bottle away, he laid the back of his hand against her open eyelids. "Dream carefully Princess Elaina of Darwin, wife to the heir of Caraway, and find your prince." He lifted his hand from her face. Her pale eyelids were closed, fluttering quickly in the flickering candlelight of her chamber.
She did not remember falling asleep; indeed, she had thought she would fight it. But instead, it was instantaneous and she was quite willing. The sleep was normal for a while. She drifted unconsciously in darkness, a single image, a single word, a mantra in her sleeping mind. Her husband's face was the image she clung desperately to, his name was a light in the suffocating blackness. She would let no doubt, no other thought enter here were only thoughts of him would bring her victory.
Her wakening was sudden, but not jolting. She had almost expected it. She sat in a tree. It was tall with long, thick, gnarled branches that reached to all sides of the forest in stood in. Fresh brilliant green buds sprouted here and there amongst the darker green leaves. The branches came close to the ground, spread from each other almost like steps as if in invitation to all those who would climb it. Her first feeling, while peering through the tree's upper branches to the patches of clear blue sky that were revealed above, was that of safety. She almost smiled for the first time since awakening to a stranger in her bed. The hint of a smile however, was enough to transform her face from sullen sadness to contentment.
She heard voices below her. No, there was only one voice, but it was ceaselessly talking to itself. Straining to see the person down below, she concentrated on the faint words that flew up to her perch in the tree.
"Am I to ever be plagued by sleeping damsels in distress? Of course the first one was of my own making, and of course it was my duty to wake her. Indeed, if I had failed in my task, I'd have most likely been miserable for the rest of my life!" The man stopped his pacing and sat Indian style against the sturdy trunk of Elaine's tree, but still continued his monologue. "But that… that woman! I could beat her! Well, no… I don't think I could beat her. I'd never have the nerve to beat a woman, no matter how dangerously magical she is." He sighed a heavy sigh and lapsed into a bout of silence.
Elaine's hint of a smile had widened now into a very wide grin, for she recognized the voice of the man below.
Prince Jon was deep in thought when very strict words fell to him, it seemed, from the very heavens.
"Well," said the lyrical voice, "you may not be able to beat a woman, but perhaps you know a tough woman who can do the job for you. For truly, anyone who causes that much chaos ought to be beaten."
Prince Jon jumped to his feet, turning and twisting in every direction, head tilted all the way back. He knew that he knew the voice, and since this was his dream, he should be able to have whatever vision he pleased. And true to his heart's desire, a figure, broken by leaves and branches and streaming beams of sunlight, appeared within the tree's arms. He could see dark hair contrasting against a ghostly white shift and the hint of sparkling brown eyes.
"You are my dream madam, and I command you to come down to me."
"I am no dream sir, and I shall do as I please!"
He smiled, even in dreams he could not rid her of her independent nature, indeed, he would not want to. "Then I shall come up!"
"No, do not bother. For I find that the branch grows uncomfortable, and that the grass below looks rather soft. Am I right sir, about the grass?"
"Indeed you are lady," he said in all seriousness.
She climbed gingerly down, aware of the fact that he stayed right below her, as if he would catch her or break her fall should she accidentally be so affected by devious gravity. When she reached the very last limb, she dropped a short distance and found herself suddenly in the circle of her husband's arms.
"I found you," she breathed, her smile lighting her eyes.
"Were you looking?" He was quite distracted by a lock of hair that had fallen in front of one of her eyes. He took it and wrapped it around his finger as he questioned her so.
"I still am!" she replied, pushing herself away from the warmth of his arms. "Surely you realize that you are not with me!" She placed her fists firmly on her hips and stared him down, daring him to take her lightly.
"But of course I'm with you, here, in my dream," said the prince confusedly.
"Oh you are slow today aren't you. Yes, we are here in this dream, but I am not a dream me. I am a real me."
He looked confused for one brief second before enlightenment sparked in his eyes. "You are asleep as well then! You took Damian's potion."
"Yes. I took it to come and ask you where you've taken yourself off to, leaving in your stead a slob of a man whom everyone believes to be you!"
Jon looked thoughtful for a bit, replying almost to himself, "Yes, it is the same here. They all think me Cassius."
"Cassius!? Then that is his name! Yes, the name does suit him. He looks as much like a Prince Jon as you look like a Cassius." She dropped to a sitting position in front of the tree, leaning her long back against its trunk. Her prince stood above her, pacing slowly back and forth.
"Your sister's plan makes sense now! She could not just bring me here, because the Duke would never let me into the watchtower. She had to switch me with a man the duke trusted. She had to make everyone think that I was he."
"Jon, what are you talking about? My sister? What does Rene have to do with any of this? She said she would not hurt us. Remember?" She lifted her head from where it had leaned against the tree to stare incredulously at her husband.
Jon quickly told her about his meeting with her sister at the inn in Cliff Village, and about the curse of sleep that kept the young girl prisoner in the watchtower of Wellington Castle.
"Let me see if I've got this then," spoke Elaine slowly, "Rene wishes the marry the Duke, who wishes to marry this sleeping lady, who can only be awoken by a noble man with great need." She arched one eyebrow up at him and plopped an elbow onto a propped up knee. "And she switched you, who are noble and have a need to return to your new wife, with Cassius, who is dangerous and mean and most trusted by the scavenging Duke of Wellington, so that you may kiss this sleeping maiden, awaken her from her enchanted sleep, and reveal to the poor duke just how unworthy the lady is of his love. In effect, making him realize just how worthy my sister is of love." Elaine threw her hands up in disbelief with a groan of utter annoyance.
"No, love has nothing to do with it apparently. She just wants him to realize how powerful she is, how much of a help she would be to him." Prince Jon sat down in front of his wife, propping both elbows on his knees and pushing his cheeks into his fists. Elaine laughed at the funny and pitiful picture they made, and began to wish that she would never awake from this dream. Unless, of course, she could awake with him beside her.
As if he could read her thoughts, Jon reached over and caressed the line of her jaw. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes, startling him when she stated, "I will help you."
"Help me? It is not your kiss that will awaken this forsaken maiden and bring me back to you."
"I will not sit idly by with this horrid man and wait like a good little girl for you to return! And you're not going to kiss her!"
"But that's the only way I can wake her. You know that! And yes you will stay home! I can't be sure of what danger lurks here. And besides, I could kiss her tomorrow and it will all be over."
Both were standing now, once caressing fingers balled into frustrated fists at the end of stiff arms that were thrown defensively across the prince's chest and down to Elaine's sides. Two pair of dark eyes sparked with determination.
"I said, you will not kiss her! And I can't believe you are foolish enough to believe that this enchantment, spell, curse, whatever, is that simple. Surely you know that nothing of this sort is ever that simple!" As she yelled, dark clouds swirled in from nowhere and marred the perfection of the pure blue sky. The sturdy boughs of the gnarled climbing tree began to creak and sway, and the soft green grass beneath their bare feet began to wither and crisp. Somewhere in the distance a flash of violent lighting illuminated the ever-darkening sky, and a rumble of thunder threatened from the silence beyond.
"I will keep hope that it is that simple Elaine. And it will keep me happy to know that while I am consigned to this fate, you are safe with Damian and my father, safe behind fortified castle walls and a garrison of ready troops. You know as well as I what dangers lie waiting for you in this world. They almost kept you from me. I will not let them take you from me now." He stepped closer to his wife as he saw that the drops on her cheeks were not the large soaking ones that were now spattering down from heaven.
As he took her in his arms she mumbled into his shoulder, "It is my nightmares breaking through. My fear and anger broke my concentration. I'm sorry. Wake up now, please, or else you'll have to face them with me. I would not wish that for you."
"I've faced your nightmares before gypsy, I'll face them with you again. I'll not wake up."
She heard the determination in his voice and knew it was best not to argue. She didn't want to anyway. She remembered how his presence on their wedding night had kept the ugly dreams away, and prayed that his presence now, thought only in spirit and mind, would keep her safe from her own fears.
All of a sudden, chaos broke out around them. Tall, strong men yelled warnings and screamed to their mates. Willowy yet sturdy women in vibrant colors and drenched clothes wailed and dark haired children with fearful dark eyes cried out in the cold night. Prince Jon watched the scene that had broke out around them as Elaine hid her eyes fiercely in his shoulder, holding onto his shirt sleeves as tightly as if the very wind that howled through the trees might pick her up and carry her far away.
Arrows whiled into the scene from the woods surrounding the frightened group of children. They pierced the chests of women and children as the cold clash of steel could be heard from the dark coverage of the forest.
Jon, knowing himself to be no more than a spirit in this place, watched the scene with a detached sense of horror. No one was spared. When it ended, there was naught but a pile of bodies to be picked through as guards and armored villagers picked through corpses. He watched as one man kicked a lifeless woman, muttering under his breath, "damn gypsy heathens. They've no right to come round good folk like us."
The image did not waver and leave as the others always had. This one stayed sharp and crisp as Elaine still clung to him, and Jon wondered why, as he surveyed the brutal murders before him, why they did not melt back to his dreaming tree.
Then he heard the crying. It was soft and heart wrenching, and very much like the crying that was coming from the woman in his arms. Curious, he stepped toward a buggy that had been hidden by a rocky bluff. The crying grew louder, though it was still soft, and Elaine's steps at her husband's side were halting. She did not wish to move closer, but curiosity propelled the Prince, and she would not leave his side.
She was ashamed of her tears, had been ashamed of them that night as well. The fact that she was made to relive this over seemed like a fresh cut to her, an insult on top of a beating. Attempting to gather her pride about her, to be as brave as she always claimed to be, she lifted her face from her husband's chest and set her chin high. She knew what she would see when they rounded that corner of the forgotten gypsy carriage. She would face it.
Prince Jon gasped involuntarily when he saw the image his wife had expected. A young Elaine sat against the buggy, an arrow lodged deep in the front top of her shoulder, cradling a young boy. The boy's hair was as dark and curly as hers; his eyes were a brilliant sapphire blue. And they were lifeless. Five arrows rose from his chest and two were almost hidden by Elaine's skirts, piercing the small figure's right side. Blood soaked the boy's shirt, and the girl's arms and clothes.
Soon, young Elaine's eyes dried, and holding the boy, she looked emotionlessly into the forest. And after that, she kissed the boy's forehead, gently moved him from her lap, and walked around the gypsy camp. She moved slowly, chin held high, showing no emotion but for the despair that she could not keep from her eyes. Prince Jon worried still about the arrow in the girl's shoulder, though he knew that the girl would live to marry him one day. He still worried as the despondent scene faded and the girl in his arms did too.
Sunlight was pouring through the small slit windows at the top of the hall where the guards of Wellington Castle slept. Jon rose and threw on his heavy shirt of chain mail, steeling and shoving down the heart that threatened to thump right out of his chest. Strapping the sword that was not his own to his waist, he left the hall before the other men could wake, and with a grim look that was not likely to soon leave his face, watched the sun rise from the castle ramparts.