A/N I've been working on this for about a year now. I wanted to let Elias and Valleria's story breathe a little. I hope you all enjoy and hopefully, chapter 22 will be done by Valentine's Day. -CL
*Can be read as a standalone, but to be fully understood it is best read at least after chapter 14*
TW: Brief torture of a main character.
Elias
"Elias! Get the fuck in here!"
I sighed heavily as Prince Marcus's voice boomed all around me. I'd been desperately hoping that I would finally be able to sleep, hoping that sleep might chase away the headaches and hunger pains I'd been fighting all day. I was up before dawn, needing to make sure everything was set for the day, and there had been little time for me to have a minute to myself. The prince's breakfast needed to be made to his exact specifications, and his robe had been warmed to chase off the morning chill. There had been an early celebration today to kick off the annual hunting season. Marcus was to address the court alongside his betrothed and the King and Queen, so everything had to be perfect.
I'd watched with growing agitation as several castle maids had bustled in with his breakfast, blushing and tittering at his superficial charm. He'd puffed up his chest and laid it on extra thick, the self-satisfied grin on his face stretched wide as he took his seat at the breakfast table. That's when the issues arose. Prince Marcus's smile fell, and I realized something had gone wrong. Even though I had given the chefs precise instructions, they'd still decided to go rogue and add gouda cheese to his omelet and a grapefruit twist to his orange juice. The first bite had caused his face to flush red with anger, and when he'd gone to chase the taste away with a swig of juice, he'd exploded. Plates and glasses had shattered against the stone walls, and two table legs had snapped as he flipped it on its side. I'd watched with dawning horror as he'd turned my way.
He'd been on an instant war path, but of course, the castle couldn't know how he really was. Those maids that had simpered so prettily for him couldn't take the blame. He couldn't let anyone see his vicious fury before his marriage to the princess, so I took the brunt. Dark bruises were hidden beneath my simple servant uniform. Luckily, they covered me from neck to wrist, and I only needed a small bit of concealer on my jaw. It had been painful, but nothing I wasn't used to. If that had been the only problem, the day might have passed without further abuse. Unfortunately, the maids hadn't picked up his laundry the night before. As such, his hunting boots were still caked in mud, and his riding gear smelled heavily of horse and sweat.
I'd gotten quite the tongue-lashing, accusing me of trying to sabotage him in front of the court by not performing my duties. If I had just taken the verbal assault, I might have escaped worse, but I had made the mistake of pointing out that laundry had never been one of my responsibilities, even at home, but he would hear none of it. The second beating had hurt not just my body but my pride as he made me strip and began pointing out all of my supposed inadequacies as a man. He'd laughed when a few tears had rolled down my cheek, barking Pussy loudly in my ear. Then, still nude and aching, I'd had to hand-wash everything in the bathtub.
Marcus had made inquiries about what maids were responsible for our laundry and had been informed that the laundress in our part of the castle never worked Thursdays or Fridays. The head butler had snarkily told him to make sure all laundry was sent out by Wednesday to avoid this in the future. He'd been furious, ranting to himself about the disrespect. In our home of Grimea, the maids would have been flogged, if not worse, but here, they were given several days at a time off as the King and Queen believed in a work-life balance and were comfortable with things being unattended for a couple of days. As King Rickard had said himself, "My hands aren't broken. I can make a sandwich or wash a glass if needed."
I'd appreciated Fallnia's laid-back attitude until it got me two beatings within a few hours. Now, I just wanted to rest and not see the happy faces of the castle servants around me, knowing what I had to deal with right under their noses. I'd been cleaning glass and repairing the wood table till ten when he'd sauntered in smelling of a whorehouse, and demanded I fuck off.
"I'll not ask again. Get in here!"
His voice brought me out of my head. But it still took me a moment to get my body to listen to the demand to get up. Glancing at the pocketwatch sitting open on the floor near my head, I just barely managed to hold in a groan and roughly rubbed my hands over my face. Of course, he'd need something at two in the fucking morning. I finally dragged myself from my burlap and hay palette in the corner of Prince Marcus's walk-in closet, my head spinning and black dots flashing around my vision. At least the closet was warm, Prince Marcus had had me sleep in any number of shitty little holes in the wall, and this was by far the nicest. I'd been given a room adjacent to his, but he had decided it was much more suited to his extensive royal wardrobe. I've no idea how that made sense to him, but I knew better than to point out the logic.
I took a deep breath, groaning as the pain in my bruised ribs settled into a dull ache. I knocked hard on the back of the closed door, knowing better than to enter his room without express permission, regardless of whether he had called for me.
"About fucking time. Enter."
I pushed into the room and fought to keep a groan down. The room was a disaster, far from the pristine condition I had left it in just four hours earlier. Books were strewn about every flat surface: the bed, desk, and recently repaired breakfast table. Somehow, he had managed to get ink stains on most of the volumes, most of which looked old and possibly first additions. Seeing such precious things treated so callously pained me, and I fought to keep the irritation off my face.
I assumed he had called me here to clean, so I waited impatiently for him to give the order, mind spinning over where to get ink remover at this time of night. An order never came, though. Instead, he just held out his hand, a beautiful bouquet of yellow Juliet roses bound by twine with a violet envelope stuck in the top.
"Take this. I'd like you to deliver this to Princes Valleria for me. If she asks, tell her it expresses my deep-abiding love for her." He chuckled as he said it, giving me a smarmy smile as if we shared an inside joke. It made me feel grimy and my skin crawl.
I took the bouquet and carefully cradled it in my hands; their scent was strong and delightfully fresh. Marcus turned from me and strode to the bathroom without another word. He didn't really care about the gesture but knew little gifts and expressions of love were expected. I gently brushed the petals with my thumb, briefly enjoying the velvety textures and vivid yellow hues. I wonder where he found these at this time of night? I'd just slid my thumb to the stems when a sharp sting lanced through my hand. I pulled away and saw a bright splotch of blood well on the pad of my thumb.
A pretty gift that hurts. Makes sense coming from him.
I was momentarily stuck in my thoughts when Prince Marcus's voice startled me as it suddenly shot through the room, "Get going! I want it to be the first thing she sees when she wakes up." I gave a clumsy bow and stumbled out of the room, barely able to keep the door from slamming behind me in my haste.
The walk to Princess Valleria's chambers was a long one. Marcus had been placed in the opposite wing of the castle, literally as far away from her as they could put him. He didn't seem to think anything of it, but I'd been wondering about the distance since the first night when guards escorted us to our rooms.
Since Prince Marcus wasn't with me to reprimand me, I took the main corridors to make the journey slightly longer. I wanted to take in as much of the castle's beauty as possible—the stained glass, woodwork, and tapestries like nothing I'd ever seen before. I loved the vibrant colors that decorated the castle. Grimea was mostly shades of black, grey, and silver, with just the barest bit of scarlet. It was a dark, dreary place, and I was often distracted as I traversed the Fallnia castle grounds, every corner giving me a new delight I hadn't known before.
Walking to the princess's part of the castle took about a half hour. As I rounded the corner and her room came into focus, I noticed two guards stationed on either side of her door. They straightened up as I approached. Though nearly identical in the face; one was very tall and thin, and the other was very short and stout. They wore identical red and blue leather and steel armor emblazoned with the symbol of the kingdom, a strange red-blue flower with bell-shaped petals.
Their hands were both resting on their sword hilts. I should have felt frightened, but instead, I felt a sense of peace I didn't understand settle inside me that the princess was so well-guarded.
"Halt! State your business." The taller one commanded, non-sword hand held out in front of him as if to ward me off.
I was nervous. I'd not been prepared for what to say to get past the guards, and if I was turned away, I knew I'd likely get my third beating today. My hidden bruises throbbed at the thought.
"My cousin asked you a question, boy. Best answer him before we start to make assumptions." Stout's voice was sharper and only served to make me more nervous as I watched his hand tighten on his weapon.
Holding the flowers out to them, hands shakily slightly, I stammered, "I-I, well, Prince Marcus wanted me to..."
The stouter guard cut me off, "The princess is sleeping. Tell your prince that in the future, he should stick to more reasonable hours for," he looked at the bouquet in my hands derogatively, "gifts."
Sweat began to gather at my brow. I could not leave without giving this to the princess. It simply wasn't an option, and my feet might as well have merged with the floor as I froze with indecision. I still hadn't moved after a few beats of silence, and the guards were clearly getting tenser as I did mental gymnastics to figure out how to get past them. They'd each taken a menacing step toward me, their swords making loud click sounds as they released them from their sheaths when the door behind them suddenly swung inward.
They each froze and whipped around, surprise wiping the menacing expressions from their faces. The guards shifted uncomfortably now that the princess was in the room with us. I couldn't see her at first with the way they crowded around her door, but then their bodies shifted, and standing between them was the loveliest girl I had ever seen. I gasped in wonder as I took her in.
Her waist-length periwinkle hair was lightly rumpled from sleep and casually braided over her right shoulder. As she stared at me from across the hall, I noted she had a kaleidoscope of browns in her eyes, from the deepest espresso brown to near gold, and they were fringed with the lightest shade of lilac lashes that reached the tops of her cheeks when she blinked. Her skin looked soft and glowed golden under the torches in the hall.
I was dazzled, and when she smiled widely and uninhibited at me, my breath caught in my lungs. Prince Marcus liked having me work behind the scenes. It displeased him greatly for me, or any servant really, to be seen or heard in polite company, so I had never had the opportunity to meet her before, never been able to appreciate her beauty. I was always waiting in servant corridors for him to summon me or skulking around after they'd left to clean up the mess of whatever he'd broken in his anger when she inevitably displeased him. But now, now that I've had the pleasure of seeing her, being in her presence, I found I'd gladly give up the sun to get her to smile at me again.
I'd listened to Prince Marcus bitch at length about how he was stuck with a dull, plain wife. I'd always been irritated with how he spoke of her, but now, having seen her, my anger ignited anew. How could he think she's anything but perfection?
She stepped forward, and the spell seemed to break as the guards stepped in between us, blocking her from view again. They each held out a protective hand that stopped just short of her shoulders. It was as if they wished to hold her back but knew that wasn't their place.
"Your Highness, we are so sorry. Did we wake you? No need to worry about this. He was just on his way." Tall gave me a firm look as if to say Get the fuck out of here.
But the princess just shook her head, waved her hand in a calming gesture, and walked around them to get to me. They both tensed and clenched their weapons tighter. She glided toward me in soft, silken slippers; the only sound in the room was their whispered swishes on the marble floor and my frantic breathing. Up close, she was about a head shorter than me, maybe five foot nine, and I could make out the floral designs on her dressing gown. Juliet roses. Must be her favorite. She looked at the flowers, and her smile dimmed.
"Are those from him?" Her voice was lyrical, soothing the throbbing in my head almost immediately. I nodded, stunned by her presence. I almost missed the disdain in her tone but caught on when I saw the curve to her lip, giving her a delicate snarl. She was displeased by the gift for some reason, but I had no idea why. She reached out to take the roses from me, and I pulled them from her grasp at the last second, causing her to stumble half a step toward me. The movement caused Tall and Stout to step forward quickly, but Princess Valleria just held up her hand, halting them, and kept looking into my eyes.
"Um, sorry, it's just that please be careful. The thorns are sharp, and I'd hate for you to prick yourself." Her eyes closed briefly for a moment, and her smile grew.
"Thank you. I'll be careful." I nodded and brought the flowers back where she could reach them. When they left my hand, she caught the red splash I had been trying to hide, and her eyes went sad. Turning, she handed them to the guards behind us with barely a glance.
"Dispose of those, please." Her face stayed screwed up till she looked back at me with that sweet smile again. She pulled a handkerchief from her dressing gown pocket and took my hand in hers. We both jumped as a sort of static shock zinged across both our hands. She smiled brightly as the sensation faded, and after giving my hand a quick squeeze, she began trying to wrap my hand with the handkerchief. It was a lovely cream embroidered with yellow, pink, and red flowers, just like the dressing gown. I tried to pull away, but she just gripped my hand tighter. "Oh no, please, Princess, don't ruin such a lovely thing because of me."
She snorted; I found it charming how unladylike the sound was, "I made this myself from an old tea towel. I embroider when I'm bored. I hate to be idle, and my mother always says I can use the practice. I can always make a new one, easy." She looked at me with near pleading eyes that confused me, "Please let me help you." We just stared at each other for a moment. It felt important in a way I didn't have words for. I smiled hesitantly at her and nodded toward my hand. She wrapped it tight and tied off the end. She continued to hold my hand, and I couldn't bring myself to pull away.
A guard behind us, I don't know which one, cleared their throat before speaking in a confused voice. "Um, don't you want to read the note, your Highness?" He held out the violet envelope, but Princess Valleria didn't even glance at it.
She shook her head, causing the loose curls around her delicate cheeks to skate across her face. I had to physically grab my pant leg to keep from brushing it behind her ears. What the fuck? Down boy.
"No, thank you. Rodgers?" Stout stood up a little straighter, "Can you please escort..." She paused and looked at me expectantly.
"Oh, um, Elias?" I didn't mean it to sound like a question, but I felt genuinely baffled that she would ask.
"Can you please escort Elias and me to my father? I have something that I need to discuss with him, and it can not wait till morning."
Fear pulsed through me. What other reason could she have to bring me before the king other than that I had done something terribly wrong? I didn't want to think her cruel, but years of cruelty had taught me that anyone was capable of horrible things. She was still holding my hand, and when I went to pull away, she tightened her grip as if afraid to let go.
I still tugged on my hand, "Please, you Highness. I didn't mean to disturb you. Let me return to my quarters." My voice was thready, panic clawing at the back of my throat. I knew King Rickard most likely wouldn't hurt me for just following orders, but when Prince Marcus found out I'd been brought before the king, he very well may kill me for the embarrassment.
The princess's face crumbled with concern. "Elias? Eilas!" Her shout broke through my panic, my eyes frantically darting around as she took in my panic. "Hey, it's going to be alright. I promise nothing bad is going to happen." She gently placed a hand on my jaw, trying to soothe me, but unfortunately, she had touched the bruise I had covered with concealer. I flinched away from her hand, and when she pulled back, I noticed that some of the makeup had come off on her hand.
She looked at it strangely before looking back at my jaw. She must have seen the bruising as her face warped with anger. I watched her raise the sleeve of her gown and was frozen as she brought it close to my face. There was a stinging as the concealer was wiped away. Once most of it was wiped clean, Princess Valleria took a sharp intake of breath, and my gaze jumped to hers, seeing tears gathering.
"Oh, dear one. What has he done to you?" Her tone was familiar, and the term of endearment, though it should have been a weird thing to hear from a stranger, it felt natural and comforting to my ear.
I placed my hand over hers and hung my head. Tears of shame fell down my cheeks. I couldn't find the words, but standing there with her, I felt safe in a way I hadn't since I was first made Prince Marcus's whipping boy at nine.
The princess took a deep breath and pulled her hand away. I was bereft until she took my hand firmly in hers—a steely determination washed over her face.
"Rodgers." He straightened to attention. "We need to go now."
Her expression warmed as she turned back to me. "Come on, sweetheart. We'll get this sorted once we talk to my father, and he'll never hurt you again. I swear it."
Everything in me screamed to stay with her. That strange shock was back, rolling gently through our combined hands. Instead of seeming ominous, it only added to my sense of safety in her presence. She began tugging me to follow her. I still had no idea what was happening, but as I wiped the tears from my face, I realized that even though I'd met her not ten minutes prior, I would follow her anywhere.
Valleria
I'd been waiting for this moment for a very long time. Dreaming and dreaming of when we would finally meet, and now I finally knew his name. Elias. I had nearly been unable to contain myself when I heard his voice outside my chamber door. Though he stuttered and had an anxious quiver when he spoke, his voice was deep and husky. The hoarse quality was pleasing to my ear.
At the age of eight, I dreamed of him for the first time. As sleep overtook me, I'd fallen into a warm, golden glow. At first, I'd been scared; the new sensation was so different from anything I'd experienced so far in my short life, but slowly, a deep sense of peace had bled into every inch of the dream, and I finally let myself sink into it completely. The dream slowly bled into a wedding. I slowly realized it was my wedding as I looked to my right and saw my father walking me down the aisle.
The attendees were all my closest loved ones, and a few I didn't recognize, but all wore overjoyed expressions and had happy tears trailing down their cheeks. My chest constricted with emotion that I couldn't put words to. Tears fell from my eyes, and I looked toward the altar. He was a little blurry, in a way I would come to know was normal in a dream like this. But I could tell he was tall, broad, and had dark plum hair cut just below his chin. He reached a hand toward me, and as I placed my hand in his, a feeling of peace and love and home settled over me.
The dream was disjointed, the way all dreams are, so before I knew it, we were exchanging vows in quiet whispers to each other as the sun had set, sending a golden glow over us. The dream ended with us sharing our first kiss as a married couple before fading to black.
I'd awoken with a gasp, emotions I couldn't even begin to process at such a young age welling up inside me. I ran to my parent's chambers, tears I couldn't begin to understand dripping down my cheeks. Mother seemed to know I was coming, and she had been sitting up with arms ready to catch me as I threw myself at her. Through the tears, I had relayed the dream in frantic, childlike ramblings.
She'd chuckled warmly and whipped my tears away gently before tucking me tightly to her side. From a vase on her bedside table, she pulled a soothsy flower. I'd seen them before, they were a part of our family's crest, after all. But now she began to tell me the flower's histories. She told me of Illiana and her gifts and of her consort with his prophecies, of how our family had used this power for generations for the benefit of all our people. And then she told me of when she first dreamt of Father.
Father had been the youngest son of a minor lord in Grandfather's court. With Mother being the crown princess, they should never have crossed paths. Since he was the youngest son, Father was almost never brought to the capital as the eldest, my uncle Benjamin, was the heir and considered the most deserving of learning statecraft. But one day, his father had brought him along to a council meeting. It was supposed to be a punishment for skipping out on his tutoring one too many times, and like the scoundrel he was, he managed to sneak out of the council meeting right under his father's nose.
As Mother told it, he had snuck into the library, intending to escape through the terrace and take off to town. But she had known he'd be there and had been waiting with a cup of tea and a smile. Mother laughed fondly as she recalled Father's stunned expression at being suddenly in the presence of the island princess. He awkwardly tried to bow and back away before she'd let out a joyous laugh and rushed to introduce herself. Apparently, Father had blushed to his hairline and stammered out his name.
They'd been thirteen, both awkward and blushy as they navigated such a complicated courtship. Grandfather Frankfurt, the King, had opposed the match heavily. He was king by marriage, and so the power of the soothsy flower had never shown itself to him. The late Queen Rosa had long since passed, and though one of her dying wishes had been that Astra marry for love and to follow the soothsy's guidance. King Frankfurt had thought it all utter nonsense. He believed that since he and Rosa had been betrothed and they worked out, that the soothsy's power was all just a ridiculous family legend meant to keep the women chaste while they awaited 'the one'. Never mind that Queen Rosa had known since she and Frankfurt had met at age five that they were destined and had told her own mother as much.
The King had planned to marry the princess to a nearby country of Tarquin's prince, though he was fifteen years her senior. Queen Rosa had foretold war with them on her deathbed, and Frankfurt, though he didn't believe, wanted to take steps to curtail this with an alliance; access to their vast army made the match even more advantageous.
Luckily, these plans had never left the council chambers, except as gossip between maids. When Mother had heard these whispers of her possible engagement, she had marched into her father's throne room on the warpath. Mother didn't tell me what she had said to him, said it was not something my young ears needed to worry about, only that when she was finished, the King, shaken and shamed into compliance, had given his blessing for Mother and Father to continue courting.
It was such a Mother thing to do, using her vicious tongue and sharp mind to get her way. They were married on the anniversary of the first time they met just after they each turned eighteen, and apparently, their love shone so bright even the King had shed a tear, though Mother says that was just a rumor.
I marveled in wonder when Mother finished her story. She wiped a final stubborn tear from my eye before leading me back to my room and tucking me in. I was too excited to sleep, which was ironic as what I was excited about was dreams. As soon as the sun had risen, I marched down to the castle greenhouse and requested gardening gloves, a trowel, and several pots from the gardener. She'd looked at me with confusion, pulling at her heavily wrinkled face before asking if I needed any assistance, but I had just grinned and shaken my head.
With my hands fully burdened with gardening supplies, I trudged through the forest till I came upon a path of soothsy growing at the edge near the beach. I began to uproot the plants, and though I, unfortunately, damaged numerous blooms in my excitement, I did manage to successfully transplant three full soothsy plants into small terracotta pots.
I practically floated back to my room, covered in dirt with twigs in my hair. I arranged the plants on my side table right next to my bed. My governess nearly wept when she caught sight of me, ordering me into the bath immediately, almost having to hold me down as I couldn't sit still in the bath. I was nearly too excited to sleep, though, when Mother came to me after dinner with a glass of warm milk and a story; I found myself drifting off within minutes.
I expected more of what I had seen the previous night. I was ready for the warm glow and the sense of home I'd felt before, but instead, I was met with a dark, damp feeling room. My joy quickly turned to horror as I watched people around the room weep into chained hands. This felt different. I wasn't myself in the dream. Yes, I could feel the cool, and yes, my wrists hurt terribly from the chains, but it felt as though I was another.
I was someone who even to my small mind could tell was being kept captive. I was being held tightly, a woman's chained hands wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me as far into her side as she could. The sound of chains clinking and women and children weeping echoed off the stone walls.
"Sweetheart, you have to be brave now." The woman holding me had a soft voice. She held her vowels and rolled the 'r' in brave. I myself had never heard an accent like it, but my dream self was calmed by the familiar dulcet tones, though it saddened us to hear the weariness in it.
"But Mama, where did Papa and Sasha go?" The arms tightened almost painfully.
"They are gone, love. We won't be seeing them again for a very long time. Not till our time on the planet has ended." Tears dripped on my face from above, and my dream self buried my face deeper into her shaking shoulder.
Mama took a shuddering breath and pulled me so I could see her face. Again, she was blurry, and I could just make out wide indigo eyes and black-as-midnight hair. She gently dabbed tears from my face. "They are going to come soon. If they take you, don't fight. Children are considered useful as long as they aren't trouble."
"No, Mama, I won't let them take you from me!" My voice rose above all the weeping, and the other captives were momentarily shocked and silent. In that silence, the sound of footsteps on stone could be heard approaching. I was pulled tight again, and Mama kept whispering for me to be brave and not fight in my ear.
The door burst open, letting in bright and unwelcome light and three mean-looking burly men.
They began walking through the room, grabbing various people around the room and either throwing them at the door or toward the back of the room. Fear pumped through me as they approached Mama and me. The one who got to us first had a scar over his left eye and was missing both his front teeth. He smiled meanly before reaching out and grabbing me by the hair.
I was caught between him and Mama, who, for all her talk of 'be brave, don't fight', was doing everything she could to keep hold of me.
"Well, looky here. This little brat is about the same age as the Mad Prince, isn't he?" Another of the men, this one missing an eye with grey hair, ran over to us.
"Billy! Watch it. That gets back to 'im, and lord knows what he might do." He looked at us and gave a nod, "he is about the right age, though. Weren't they looking for a new whipping boy? The last one died just last week, didn't he?"
Billy grinned and twisted his hand in my hair harder. "Yeah, that's what I thought. I bet the castel'd pay a pretty penny for a fresh one. The way that kid carries on, he earns a beating nearly daily."
He tugged and tried to throw me toward the door, but Mama would not let go.
I watched as Billy lifted his heavy boot and brought it down hard on her arm. She gasped in pain, and her arms fell away. Billy continued to hold me as he brought down his boot again and again on her arms, hips, sides, and head. I was grateful that, for me, this was all blurry, but Mama smiled at me, "I love you, my son. Be brave."
Luckily, I was able to look away just in time for Billy to bring his boot down one more time, but I couldn't cover my ears, so I still heard the horrible squish and crunch.
"Damn shame that was. Sweet piece like that. But the captain did say any defiance was to be stomped out."
The second man scratched his head. "Well, I don't know if he meant literally, but it doesn't matter now. This little brat is gonna keep us fed for months." He smiled at me, his face blurry from the dream, as well as the tears gushing from my eyes. He didn't say anything; he just brought his fist down hard on my temple.
The dream ended abruptly. I awoke on the ground, clearly having flailed in bed, and a sob choked me. Mother had painted such a wonderful picture of how this was supposed to go. And that was not wonderful. Once again, I found myself running in tears to my parents. Again, Mother was waiting, this time with a mournful expression, and when she held me, it felt like she was holding my tiny body together as sobs wracked me.
"Oh, Petal. I wish I could spare you this pain. I'd take it on myself if I could."
I tried to look at her, but the blurriness caused by my tears only reminded me of the dream. I closed my eyes tightly as the tears flowed faster.
"But what was that, Mommy? What was that? Is that the future? My future?"
She shook her head. "No, Petal. It has happened so rarely that I didn't even think of it. The soothsy has many wonderful abilities, and in the right circumstances, this is one. But this is not the right circumstance. When someone we are destined to know, whether our future love or even just a dear friend, is in mortal danger, it can form a sort of mind link. Instead of dreams of your future together, you will be shown moments of their lives just before tragedy. It's meant to give us a warning so we can stop it before it happens."
"But why did I get the happy dream?"
"The tragedy probably happened today." Mother rarely cried, but I saw her wipe the underside of her eye as she looked away from me.
"So he was fine yesterday?" I felt sudden devestation swim over me and sagged heavily in her arms. Mother rubbed circles gently on my back.
"Don't worry, my darling. I will have every trace of soothsy stripped from this castle. You will never have to experience that again."
Panic lanced through me, and I pulled away so I could see her face. "No Mommy!"
She looked confused. "No? Darling, you are far too young to be experiencing such things. We can always revisit it when you are older." She sounded sympathetic but firm. I pulled away farther, almost leaving her lap completely.
"He's the same age as me, Mommy. I need to know so he's not alone."
"He won't know you're there, honey."
"But it won't stop just because I can't see it. Will it, Mommy?"
We stared at each other for a long minute. Mother was stubborn, and I was just the same. I don't know what it was that made me so desperate to keep dreaming of him. Maybe the first dream and the hope it had brought, or the second dream which had left him and me so broken. I'm not sure which, but I knew I couldn't let him go through it alone.
The stare-down finally ended when Mother grabbed me in a tight hug. "Oh, my precious, brave daughter. If you would let me spare you this I would." We stayed up late that night, long after Father had joined us and bundled us up in his arms. We lay awake till the sun came up, both afraid of what I might see if I fell asleep.
From that moment, we made a plan. Every night, I had a dream, which was often, I would go to Mother and pour out as many details as I could. It was slow going, but we learned that he had been trafficked and forced into becoming a whipping boy for a prince. We had begun to chart the possible islands he was on, but given how many on the Grand Line still allowed slavery, it was a slow-going search.
Life continued as normal. Just after I turned ten, Grandfather Frankfurt gained a new ally, and I gained a new pin pal. Prince Marcus Urasea was a nice distraction. He was charming and surprisingly well-written for a ten-year-old boy. Mother and I both joked that he was definitely angling for a courtship, and we even felt a little bad that he would never get what he wanted.
Marcus's letters continued almost daily. Charming platitudes and gifts of jewelry and fancy chocolates. It had been several years since I had had a future dream, and I was actually beginning to fall for Marcus and hit witty humor and kind words. Imagine what a fool I felt when on the night after my fifteenth birthday, after I had written, but not yet sent, a letter to Marcus, which I invited him to visit so we could meet properly and perhaps begin courtship, I had a dream.
I was momentarily shocked. The room was drab and grey, only lit by torch light. A greying and aged man with a tall golden crown sat up on a throne. Beside him, an equally aged queen sat, wrung her hands so hard that I thought she might tear her skin. My vantage point was from the bottom of the the steps that lead to the throne. My knees were resting on bare concrete, though I could see a carpet had been rolled away from me. The air felt chilled on my skin, leading me to believe I was at least partially naked and a fine layer of sweat was covering my entire body.
It had been so long since I had shared with the boy I'd come to consider mine that my first initial feeling was joy. That only lasted a moment as the panic running through the boy began to register.
The old king spoke, "Marcus, what do you have to say for yourself?"
Our eyes stayed trained on the concrete in front of us as another voice chimed in, I felt the boy fight to control his own body as it tried to flinch with every word he heard. "I don't see what the big deal is. She was just a maid."
"She was your mother's handmaid." The king sounded exasperated as if this was an old argument. "Has been with our family..."
"Been with our family for years. Yeah, Pops, I know. I still don't get the big deal. She's a servant. They are here to do with as we please."
"They are here to take orders and clean, sure. They are not here for you to take pleasure from whenever you please. Liza died, son."
The prince laughed meanly, and the sound caused fear to skitter down the boys spine. "Who cares? Replace her. Mother is hardly any great beauty. She takes what, ten minutes to get ready everyday? Surly anyone can take over what is probably a very easy job."
The queen let out a pained noise, and the king sucked in a breath as if aghast. "Marcus, you will not speak of your mother in such a way."
"Sure, sure, whatever you say. Now, can we get on with this? I need the boy to finish cleaning my rifle and brush my horse for tomorrow's hunt once this is all over."
The boy in questions barely managed to keep a sigh from slipping past his lips. His whole body went stiff as footsteps approached him. A slap drew his gaze to the floor near my knee. A long whip had been uncoiled and lay like a snake about to strike. The tips were barbed, and the heavy leather was stained with old blood. A whine did escape his lips at then, and briefly, the man holding it placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Sorry, kid." I knew, or the boy knew, that the voice belonged to a man named Jag. This knowledge caused a sigh of relief to wheeze out of him. Jag always pulled his lashes. It meant the lashes would be less likely to tear the skin. The whip skating across the concrete had the boy tensing up, prepared for the first strike. Jag's voice asked the king, "How many?"
"Thirty. One for each mark the prince left on Liza. Prior to her death at least. You may begin." Jag only hesitated for another moment before the whistle of the whip cut through the air. Despite the sound, the first strike was a shock. While the pain was dulled since I was just an observer in this dream, it was still the worst pain I'd ever felt. Cutting and burning all at once. The sensation did not abate as the next nine strikes, each causing a pain-filled groan to leave me, him, us. This is pulling his strength? God, what would full strength feel like?
My heart broke imaginging this poor kid going throught his alone.
Before the eleventh strike could land, the prince's voice boomed around the room. "If you aren't going to do it right, how will I ever learn my lesson?"
The boy's head hung weakly from his shoulders as he tried to catch his breath. Footsteps approached him, moving leisurely, and Prince Marcus finally said, "Here, let me show you."
"Sire, I don't think..." Jag was cut off abruptly Marcus strike him in the face, the skin-on-skin sound echoing in the silent room. "You aren't paid to think, you are paid to whip the whipping boy, and apparently, you can't even do that right, so what fucking good are you. Move!" Jag's feet stumbled into my eye-line as he was shoved out from behind me. "Be useful and hold him still." Jag knelt in front of me, and his hands gripped my shoulders firmly.
"Just breathe." His voice was a bit shaky and barely a whisper. The boy tried to focus on a speck of ink that stained the collar of Jag's shirt and fought desperately to control his breathing.
Tremors wracked the boy's body as Marcus began to snap the whip behind his back over and over, as if he was building suspense like I wasn't already terrified. He whistled as if he was just on an evening stroll, each snap getting so close to the boy's ear that wind disturbed the hair covering it.
His taunting went on so long that when his first lash struck it was a complete surprise. It split the skin immediately, and specks of blood spattered around the boy and Jag on the concrete. The boy began trying to hold in his screams, but after only three strikes, he was blubbering and begging Prince Marcus to stop. He didn't. He counted out loud to thirty and even added ten more to make up for the strikes Jag had pulled.
"Enough!" The king's order exploded through the room, but Prince Marcus took no heed of it, striking the weeping boy one more time just because he could.
Prince Marcus dropped the whip, and the boy collapsed into Jag's arms, shaking, cold, and nearly unconscious.
"Boy," the prince addresed the weeping teen at his feet. I felt him tilt his head till the hazy sceen behind him came into view. Though the world was blurry, as the dreams always are, I could make out the tall, imposing form behind the boy. "Be in my chambers in twenty minutes. You've got chores to do."
As he turned to walk away, the king yelled, "You are a stain on Grimea, Marcus."
I didn't hear whatever Marucs said in return as the dream dissolved after the king spoke. I awoke screaming, clawing at my back as the phantom pains slowly faded. Oh god. Marcus. Grimea. The knowledge that I had been writing to and possibly falling for such a cruel man, a man who was hurting someone so important to me, had me stumbling out of my bed toward a large flower pot and emptying my stomach of all it contents. I was resting my head on the lip of the pot when my mother came bareling into the room.
She rushed to me and gathered me in her arms. I poured the whole story out between sobs, and she cradled me and rocked me gently till the tears finally dried. We sat in silence for a while. And then my mother began plotting. We knew Marcus had been expecting an invitation to the castle, but I couldn't even bear to put quill to paper to write to him to explain why that wouldn't be happening. So my mother did it for me. She wrote to him to say I wasn't ready. His response was understanding if curt. He agreed to give me all the time I needed.
That back and forth continued for years. Mother, writing on my behalf, Marcus, writing back, very understanding letters. Though often, he'd obviously pressed the quill down hard with each letter, nearly splitting the paper in several places and the responses became shorter and shorter. Until I was eighteen. I knew then that it was time as I had another dream of my boy standing on the docks of Fallnia at the peak of summer. I knew it was the upcoming summer as there had been a ship in the harbor, and I knew for a fact that it was currently under construction. It was named The Astra and was going to be a gift for my parents upcoming from my father to my mother.
I had Mother pen a letter that led Marcus to believe I was ready to begin courting and come as soon as he could. We prepared as best we could in the coming weeks it took him to arrive. And when he did with his ostentatious ships and over-generous gifts of wares we didn't need, he stood on the deck of his ship and looked around my island with a look of disgust that he could barely conceal. I allowed him to kiss my cheek and hold my hand, the whole time fighting the way my skin wanted to run away from him.
I tried to catch sight of who I was really eager to see, but he was nowhere to be found. At first, I thought maybe he hadn't brought him, but then I heard the maids talking about how the prince had put his wardrobe in the room meant for his manservant. I was disgusted but persevered. Dinners, walks, long talks in the library. I tolerated it all, hoping I might finally get to meet the person I already knew deep in my bones. But he never showed.
Each night, my mother would appear and escort me back to my room, and Marcus would look at her with poorly concealed hatred before bowing and kissing each of our hands chastely. My handmaiden had told me that he often left the castle after these 'dates' and would return in the early hours of the morning smelling like perfume and alcohol. He thought himself such a good actor. Thought he had all of us fooled, but we saw right through him and had played along to keep him compliant.
When I'd heard the guards my father had stationed outside my room barking at someone at first, I had tensed, imagining that Marcus had finally had enough and had come to find my room on the other side of the castle. But then I heard that voice. Elias's voice. I'd all but stumbled out of my bed and just managed to pull myself together enough to pull the door open.
The roses had been beautiful. My favorite, as I had just told Marcus that morning. And if Elias had been the one to give them to me, I may have kept them, but since they were just another empty gesture I wanted them thrown out as soon as possible. The sight of bruises on Elias's face caused a deep churning for rage to wheel in my stomach.
Taking his hand felt like nothing I'd ever expected. Tingles had raced up my arm, and I felt such peace in his presence that I could not help but smile happily at him.
Rodgers and Pike seemed very uncomfortable with the current situation but nonetheless led us faithfully through the castle to get to my parents' chamber. As we neared the door and the guards knocked to announce our arrival, Elias took a step back and loosened his hold on my hand.
I turned to find him pale and anxiously looking around as if for escape. "It will be ok." I pulled him close again, though he remained stiff in my hold. "I won't let anything happen to you."
He looked at me with his spring green eyes so wide that the whites were showing. And I watched as he made the conscious decision to trust me. He nodded once, and his hand in mine tightened once again.
Elias
Valleria had taken me straight to her parents' chamber after we met outside her chamber door. Seeing the Fallnian King and Queen in their dressing gowns sans all the royal finery I was so used to seeing them in was quite a shock. I may not have survived had Valleria had held my hand the entire time.
King Rickard's suspicion was palpable as his daughter, hand in hand with a foreign stranger, approached him in the dead of night. In stark contrast, the queen's demeanor suggested she had been expecting this encounter. Despite the late hour, she had prepared a spread of mint tea and finger sandwiches on a small serving table near the fireplace. She ushered me into a plush, red velvet chair, wrapped me in a thick quilt, and fed me until I was fit to burst, having not eaten for so long.
They gently probed me with questions about my service to the kingdom of Grimea, the Prince, and his treatment of those who worked for him, and, most of all, they seemed very curious about how I came to be employed by the royal family. Years of conditioning had me defending my captors and singing their praises. Eventually, after maybe my third cup of tea, Valleria's concern was so evident in her eyes that it was almost physical. She made strong eye contact with her mother and then looked sadly at me.
Her mouth opened and closed several times before she reached out and gently gripped my chin. She tilted it to reveal the bruise under my chin to her mother. Queen Astra's eyes blazed hotly, and I couldn't help but flinch; ripping my hand from Valleria's grasp, I flung myself out of the chair to huddle against its side and used both my hands to cover my head.
Gentle hands lightly touched the top of my hands, undeterred when another flinch shook my body. With soft words of encouragement, the Queen lifted my head, patting my head gently in a way I hadn't experienced since I'd lost my mother. That thought had thick, heavy tears filling my eyes, and I suddenly found myself engulfed in a firm hug. The Queen is hugging me? It felt inappropriate, but my attempts to pull free of her were futile, and eventually, the warmth of the hug won me over, and I openly began to weep into her shoulder.
She didn't speak; if she had, I might have fought the embrace harder.
Murmuring behind us caught my attention, and over the Queen's shoulder, I found Valleria and her father in a heated discussion. They were standing near a large desk, the King's leather-bound agenda open in front of them.
My cries tapered off, and embarrassment filled me as I realized I'd shown such weakness in front of the entire royal family. My face burned red, and the Queen resat me in the chair. I tried to hide my face with my teacup and sipped the cooling tea. King Rickard had moved back toward the fireplace and stood silently facing the flames.
"My boy, we are about to tell you an unbelievable story. I know from experience that it is going to sound crazy." At this, he paused and smiled lovingly at the Queen. She returned it, all her love for him shining from her eyes. "But if you let it, it can change your life."
The next three hours included an almost full lesson on Fallnia and the Florian family. The bright blue and red flower the Queen brought from a bedside table was woven throughout many stories as they told tales of their ancestor's creation and use in foretelling the future. My ears perked up as they spoke of how it helped the kingdom prepare for natural disasters, famines, illnesses, etc. It seemed far too outlandish, but the way they all burned with passion told me that it was all very real for them.
Then they told me about how the King and Queen had met, how Queen Astra dreamed of the king and put herself in his path so that she could meet him.
Suddenly, Valleria took my hand, the first time she had touched me since I had pulled away from her. I turned to stare into her brown, beautiful eyes, and she gave me a serene smile. Her thumb caressed my skin softly, sparks of warmth skating across it with every brush. We stared at eachother in silence for several seconds before an idea fluttered through my brain. No. No way. I'm far to below her, not worthy by half.
I snapped my gaze to Queen Astra, and she must have read my thoughts in my eyes because she nodded, "And that leads us to you, Elias."
"No," I scooted to the far edge of the chair, body poised to flee. "This is some kind of weird joke, isn't it?" My heart ached at the idea of the lovely Valleria being behind any kind of scheme, but it was all I was familiar with after so many years.
Valleria followed me as I stood, only a step behind me as I paced to the far side of the room. "No, Elias, please listen to us."
More denials fell from my lips. "Maybe I can help you believe."
Queen Astra walked to the fireplace, where I noticed she had a pot of water heating. With a pot holder and long tongs, she pulled the pot from the flames with a practiced motion that was odd to see a queen doing. She poured fresh hot water into my teacup before adding a pinch of sugar, honey, several mint tea leaves, and, surprisingly, three petals from the flower they had been showing me earlier. She stirred the tea round and round till the water began to take on an indigo hue.
I stood mesmerized as she spoke, "Our family is naturally gifted with a sensitivity to the soothsy pollen. But it is possible for others to be as well, though less common. For those with no sensitivity, we've discovered that drinking this tea can have the same effects." She moved until she was right before me and held the cup of deep violet tea toward me. "Drink, Elias. Drink and see for yourself that we are telling you the truth."
Shivers wracked my body as I reached for the cup. Valleria reached to help me steady the cup since I nearly dropped it when her mother released it. She watched me with large eyes filled with worry and hope. She looked at me like she might care for me. It had a kernel of warmth blooming in my chest and gave me a boost of confidence that this wasn't some elaborate plan to enact harm on my person. I gave the princess a small smile, brought the cup to my lips, and took a deep drink.
The liquid was surprisingly citrusy, bursting along my tongue like ripe oranges. A drowsy feeling settled into my bones as the last of the tea disappeared, and my anxiety briefly spiked as Valleria led me back to the armchair. She rewrapped me in the blanket that had fallen to the floor and brushed my hair from my forehead.
"We will talk when you wake up. It will all make sense, I promise."
Start Elias's Dream
I was asleep before I could respond. The world swam in black before a pinpoint of light appeared off in the distance. It raced toward me. I braced myself for impact, but when a tiny body suddenly landed on my chest, pressing my breath from my lungs, I was surprised to hear, "Daddy, wake up! Al and I built sand castles, and I need you to tell him mine is better!"
I jerked awake, and a small child rolled down my chest and landed in my lap, laughing maniacally as she stood and raced away, lilac hair flying behind her. I looked around in confusion. I was no longer in the royal chambers; now, I lay on a damp beach towel on a white sand beach. Patting my chest, I discovered I was clad only in a light blue tank top and swim trunks. I had never been dressed as such, and I immediately felt the need to cover up, but upon examining my arms, I found no bruises or fresh contusions. In fact, my arms appeared darkly tanned, and my muscle definition appeared to have increased.
The world around me was hazy, even a few feet in front of me becoming hard to make out. This, along with the near drowsy warmth that surrounded me and the softened sounds fluttering past my ears, led me to believe I might be dreamingMy breathing panted out a little faster, but before it could get out of control, another voice I recognized called from over my shoulder. Turing, I found Princess Valleria walking toward me.
Unlike the rest of my surroundings, she was crystal clear, and her voice wasn't muffled by static. She was wearing an apricot-colored sundress with a cream-colored wrap protecting her shoulders from the sun. A floppy sun hat was atop her head, and her periwinkle hair was loosely braided to the side. She was barefoot and cradled a swaddled infant in her arms. I watched, transfixed as she approached me. She kneeled beside me when she reached me and placed a sweet kiss against my flushed cheek. When she leaned back, a sunbeam reflected in her eyes, turning them nearly golden. Her smile was broad, and a small chuckle escaped her as she looked down at the baby.
"There you three are. I've been looking everywhere for you. Celia's first tooth is coming in! Look!" I was stunned by her beauty, just as I had been earlier in the evening. But now her face appeared older. Her face seemed a bit longer, and fine smile lines had begun to work their way around her mouth. Pulling my eyes away from her face, I followed her hand down to the child, who shared her hair and eye color. Her head was perfectly round, and her cheeks were chubby and rosy. Valleria pulled down her bottom lip and proudly displayed the tip of a bottom incisor coming out of the baby's gums.
A huff of surprise left me, and without thinking, I reached out and brushed the baby's cheek with the tips of my fingers. She nuzzled into the touch immediately. A sense of warmth and closeness coursed through me, and I laughed happily along with Valleria. We shared a familiar smile over the baby for a prolonged moment, Valleria's hand reaching and grasping mine. My skin buzzed as she touched me, reminding me of the same sensation that had come over me when she had touched me for the first time.
"Mama!" Two children's voices echoed from behind us. I turned just in time to keep two small bodies from colliding with the princess and the baby. They wiggled in my arms as I easily lifted them onto my shoulders till they managed to get their feet underneath them, giggling the whole time. Once settled, they leaned over the baby and made sweet cooing sounds at the small bundle. I got my first good look at them. The boy appeared to be about six, and the girl couldn't have been more than three. They both had lavender-hued hair, though the boy's was a few shades darker. Was really struck me was how familiar they looked. For the boy, it was nearly like looking in a mirror; he even had a beauty mark under his left ear in nearly the same spot I did.
I jerked my head and took in the little girl and had to fight off a whine. Besides her coloring, she was an exact copy of my sister Sasha, from the tilt of her nose to the shape of her ears. She was nearly the same age Sasha was when she passed away, and I couldn't stop myself from reaching out and pulling her into a hug. She wriggled a bit, "Daddy! Let go. I want to see the baby!" She wiggled a bit more before she seemed to catch onto the turmoil I was in because she turned in my arms and hugged me tightly. "It's okay, Daddy. Don't be sad." Her tiny voice soothed the jagged edge of my emotions, and I found myself smiling and pulling away from her.
I brushed her hair from her face and kissed her on her hairline. "I'm okay, sweetie. Thanks for the hug, though. Hey, did I hear you say something about a sandcastle-building contest? Maybe your," I looked to Princess Valleria hesitantly, "Mother would want to help judge?" The little girl and her brother squealed excitedly and turned to face their mother.
The boy's words tumbled out in a rush, 'OhpleaseMommy, can you?' The girl's hands clasped together in front of her, and she bounced with anticipation. A feeling I wasn't familiar with settled in my chest. It was what I thought joy and contentment might have felt like. Valleria looked at me like she was trying to be irritated, but it was ruined by the smile that kept trying to push through.
She looked back at the small children, and that laugh she'd been pushing down finally won, and she giggled beautifully. "Oh, my sweeties. How could I ever deny you anything." She stood, and the children had a brief curfuffle as they both tried to grab her free hand. They eventually settled for both of them, holding onto different fingers, and started pulling her toward where their castles had been built. Valleria stopped and turned back toward me before they got too far; a pleased smile crossed her face.
"Are you coming, Elias?"
She watched me as if she could see my inner turmoil. I thought then of the tea I had drank. If this was a vision of the future, could this indeed be my future? As I stared at her, watching the baby lightly fuss, and saw the children excitedly talking about how one castle was better than the other, I couldn't help but want. I craved this future more than anything. Shaking my head, I gave Valleria a reassuring smile and walked toward her. Feeling bold, I kissed her cheek and put my arm around her shoulder, pulling till she was fit right under my arm.
"Yes, I'm coming." Pulling away, I turned to the kids, put my hands up in the air, and mimicked monster claws. In a growly monster voice, I called, "You wee ones better run. The tickle monster is feeling hungry!"
They each let out high-pitched shrieks and took off running, their laughter echoing in the air. Valleria's laugh followed me as I joined in the chase.
End Elias's Dream
I awoke slowly, sunlight streaming through a window, turning my eyelids a bright peachy color as it blasted me right in the face. I jerked awake as I remembered that my closet room didn't have a window, and I was far too warm and cozy to be lying on my thin straw mattress. I was still in the armchair. The fireplace was roaring, and I was alone in the room. I panicked immediately. It was light enough out to let me know it was creeping toward 7am, a full four hours after I should have been up, preparing Prince Marcus's clothes for the day and trying to make sure the chefs didn't take any more liberties with his food.
On the side table where the tea had been now sat a silver tray with a pot of jam, two pieces of wheat toast, a banana, and a water carafe. "It was all I could get out of the kitchen before the chefs kicked me out." A voice from my right spooked me, and I jumped, a the jar of jam to fall to the floor as I knocked the table in my haste to stand.
She let out a nervous titter of laughter, "Well if you didn't like jam you could have just said so."
Princess Valleria was standing in the doorway. Behind her, I could see the two guards from before watching me warily, though much of the previous night's hostility had faded. She walked into the room and pulled the door closed. I watched her approach and having seen the vision the queen had promised me, I could see who she would grow to be as she aged. I longed to take her in my arms as I had in the dream but held myself back. "Princess. I... I'm so sorry for sleeping so long. I've got to go; I was supposed to start the chores for Prince Marcus hours ago."
I started to move away from the table when her voice, warm with anger, reached me. "You won't be going back to him."
I wanted to agree, but my ingrained fear for him filled me until I felt cold in the almost overly cozy room. "Please, princess. I can understand you wanting to protect me, but it's not worth the hassle."
Hurt flashed across her face, and she took one step back from me. "Are you saying that after what you saw and dreamed, you still want to go back to him?"
I felt sick after hurting feelings and stepped forward hand raised. "No! That's not what I meant at all. I want nothing more than to stay here. With you to hope we might one day grow into the future that I saw, but we both know that an impossibility."
Valleria wrapped her arms around herself and appeared to be holding back tears.
"But why? Tell me one good reason we can't be together, Elias!"
"Maybe because he's your husband!" I didn't mean to shout, but it angered me that she seemed so willing to ignore such an obvious fact.
She seemed to freeze at that, body pulling taunt. She stared at me for several seconds, face filling with dawning horror, before she suun suddenly, and ripped the door open. The guards were there immediately, clearly expecting to have to deal with me. I expected much of the same, so I was shocked when she simply requested that they retrieve her parents. Then she shut the door and moved toward me. She bypassed me and retrieved the jam pot from the floor; the lid had surprisingly stayed on when it had fallen. She opened the pot with maybe too much force and spread it on a dry piece of toast with too much vigor, ripping bits of the bread. She took a vicious bit and chewed sullenly for several seconds before snapping her eyes back to me.
"You might as well eat a bit. We aren't going anywhere till we get this settled."
I pushed myself back into the armchair, remaining perched on the end. I nibbled on a jamless piece of toast and sipped some water. After a few tense moments, I asked, "Get what settled?"
"How you think I'm married? " she snipped and then went back to sitting in silence.
We sat for about twenty minutes before the chamber door was ripped open, and the King and Queen came rushing in.
"Oh, my Darling. What has happened that requires our urgent presence?" Queen Astra pulled Valleria into a warm embrace, and tears sprung in the princess's eyes.
Weepily, Valleria looked to me, "Tell them." The royals all looked at me with varying looks of distrust and sadness. I couldn't help but think I had failed a test of some kind.
"Well, I did have a dream. I believe what you said about it predicting the future. And if I could have it, I would, in a heartbeat. But we all know that isn't possible because," I looked at them with wide, confused eyes, "because Valleria and Marcus are already married. They have been since they were ten."
They all looked at me like I had grown a second head. The King's eyes grew wide, and then anger flushed his face. He ran at me and gripped me by the shirt. He ripped me out of the chair and demanded to know what I was talking about. Shakily, I told them what every Grimean citizen has known for almost a decade. I told him of the impending war with Tarquin, the marriage by proxy, and the understanding that Marcus was expecting a symbolic wedding to make everything official.
As each word poured out of me, they all became angrier and angrier, but I felt when they shifted their anger away from me. Slowly, the King returned me to my chair and awkwardly patted my shoulders as if in apology for the rough treatment. It was on the tip of my tongue to say I'd been treated worse, but I felt it better to keep that to myself.
King Rickard pulled a purple-shelled transponder snail with a tiny golden crown from deep within his royal robes and placed a call. I listened, transfixed, as he requested his solicitor, the royal records keeper, and old King Frankfurt's personal assistant be brought to the castle within the hour.
He and the Queen moved to an adjacent room to await their meeting, leaving Valleria and me alone again. She sat across from me and appeared lost in thought. Looking around the room in the daylight, I could see that there was a tea set, the one from the previous night, sitting against the far wall. I left Valleria to her thoughts and set about making tea. The motions of boiling the water and steeping the tea were monotonous, and the familiar task helped settle some of my lingering nerves.
I placed a cup before the princess, jolting her out of her thoughts. "Thank you." She said out of habit and then took a small sip. She pulled back in surprise. "This is exactly how I usually take my tea."
I nodded and went about preparing my own cup. "I know. The prince has had me making it for him to give to you at every breakfast you two have shared. Then he'd have me hid in a crawlspace till you left."
It pleased her that I remembered how she had taken her tea, but she was also irritated about why. Trying to appease her, I said, "The first time, I did it by accident. When I was cleaning up after one of your tea dates, I noticed the items that had remained around your place setting and was able to recreate it when I was next tasked with setting up the tea time. I didn't have time to clear it from the table before you came in, so you drank it as soon as you sat down. Once Prince Marcus realized you thought him knowing he knew how you took your tea, he began having me do it every time to save face. He actually found it extremely annoying to have to keep up the lie. Ruined his day just a little bit every time."
Valleria let out a delicate laugh that as just a skosh mean and said, "Good."
I agreed, and we sipped tea till the meeting began.
Valleria
Paper after paper was shuffled on the table. My father was in a heated discussion with his solicitor; my mother and the records keeper were pouring over every record, looking for loopholes. Even Elias was speaking with my grandfather's assistant to see if they remembered anything that might be helpful.
Amongst them, I sat silent. Dread had filled me so fully that I couldn't move. If I had to label what I was feeling, I'd probably call it grief. I was grieving for the life I so badly wanted and struggling to accept what was. King Frankfurt, in a bid to gain access to Grimea's soldiers, had married me off in secret, forged my parent's signatures, and then not bothered to tell anyone before he'd passed away just three short months ago.
Tears started to stream down my cheeks, and when I raised my head, I found Elias watching me. His eyes were haunted as he appeared to be trying to hide all his emotions. It seemed to me that the more we discovered about my grandfather's deception, the farther away he was pulling. I couldn't fault him for trying to protect himself, but the distance between us felt like an agony after finally having him so close after so long. A breath shuddered out of me: "I won't marry him."
Everything stopped. The solicitor, Maxwell Aberdeen, looked sadly at me. "My dear. I have looked over these backward and forwards. I just don't see anyway out of it."
"I unfortunately agree," Faith Moore, the records keeper, said with a shake of her head.
Father slammed his fist on the table. "I will not let that bastard lay a single hand on my daughter. I will go to war with Grimea, kill him myself before that ever happens."
After a few tense seconds, Grandfather's assistant, Peregrine Bozz, hesitantly raised his hand. "Actually, Your Highness, I may have an idea."
Father raised a brow, "Go on."
Peregrine took a deep breath, "I remember when the old king made this deal. I was there to take notes, and I heard the Grimean king offer an alternative deal. It seems even they knew their son was a monster, even at ten, and they didn't want to burden your daughter with such a husband. They offered to give access to their army for resources—specifically food. We have an abundance of wheat, vegetables, fruits, and rice. Grimea has a harsh climate and struggles to grow more than root vegetables. King Frankfurt thought marriage was a more solid way to seal an alliance, so he rejected the Grimean compromise. I believe if we were to offer them that deal, they might consider it. With agreement from Princess Valleria's parents and Prince Marucs's parents, the actual signers of the marriage license, in agreement the marriage contract can be voided."
Father had the transponder snail dialing as soon as Peregrin finished speaking. The snail rang forever. I'd been holding my breath, too nervous even to hope this plan might work. A *click* popped through the snail's speaker, and a heavily accented voice spoke, "Hello, who is this."
"King Rickard of Fallnia."
A heavy sigh came from the snail, "What did he do now?"
"Actually, the prince hasn't done anything untoward. We have just discovered something that called for immediate conference."
There was silence on the other one of the transponder. Then, in a questioning tone, the Grimean king said, "What seems to be the problem?"
I sat exhausted as my father, with my mother chiming in with some... colorful commentary, told the other king about what my grandfather had done.
Once the story had been told, there was a prolonged silence. Then, a timid voice flowed over the speaker. "What can we do to fix this?" That must be the queen. She sounds so tired.
Peregrine joined the conversation, and as they began to work out logistics for dissolving my faux-marriage and beginning a new trade route to Grimea, I felt my body unclench.
All in all, it took six hours. In the end, a final copy of the annulled marriage certificate and an ever-pose for Grimea would arrive in Fallnia in two weeks. At that time, Prince Marcus was to be loaded onto a ship and sent back home, with 500,00 berries as payment for Elias staying on the island, though the reason they were keeping him was never explicitly stated.
Peregrine stayed to beg my parents' forgiveness for not coming forward sooner. He told them that he had never known that they weren't privy to their own daughters' betrothal. Of course, mother and father were overflowing with forgiveness, bringing the old man to tears as mother gave him a hug and offered the man a generous retirement package.
I stayed in the hard chair of the meeting room long after everyone had left except Elias, who had sat next to me and seemed happy to just exist in the same space as me. I turned to look at him, again struck by how handsome he was. He'd been kind to the elderly assistant, forthcoming with as much information about the situation as possible. When he touched her, it was with a tenderness that she had already started to crave. She couldn't wait to learn more about him.
Elias turned and caught me staring. He smiled widely when a scarlet flush flooded my cheeks, showing off one canine that was slightly askew.
"So, um, what's your favorite color?"
He laughed at the mundane question. A light, free sound that I immediately became addicted to hearing. His eyes searched my face briefly before he bashfully smiled and said, "Periwinkle."
I couldn't help but grin.
Elias -Six Years Later
A baby's cry pierced the air. I knew it was a girl before the doctor announced it. I'd dreamed of her for the last six years, and as he was laid across Valleria's chest, I couldn't stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks as I leaned down to place a kiss on the back of her head where it rested against Valleria's breast. I kissed her smack on the mouth a second later. She was sweaty, and we couldn't stop laughing joyfully, so it was a messy kiss, but neither of us cared.
The distant sound of excited yelling drew closer, and Valleria and I found ourselves unable to contain our laughter. 'It seems Alphonse can't wait to meet his little sister,' I remarked giddily.
"He's got excellent timing."
Valleria was the epitome of beauty at that moment. Nestled against the pillows, her face aglow, she cradled our daughter. Her hair pulled up into a tight bun, was adorned with a few stray curls that danced around her face.
"Have you decided on a name yet, Your Highness?"
We shared another smile, this one softer, more private. Valleria lifted her and carefully passed her to me.
"Wellesley. Her name is Wellesley Aleksandra Floria." Her name is Wellesley Aleksandra Floria," I announced, my voice filled with awe as I gazed at her perfect face, once again struck by her familiar features. As I lifted her for another kiss, the delivery room door burst open, revealing an ecstatic Alphonse and a harried Queen Astra. With a good-natured sigh, Astra headed to Valleria to check on her wellbeing. As Astra whispered to her gently, Valleria rested heavily in her mother's arms. Al barreled into my thigh in his typical exuberance, turning my attention to him, his squeaky voice pleading, "Daddy, let me see!" He made several grabby motions with his hands and even stomped on my toes when he jumped up and down.
"Okay, buddy. But remember, be careful with the baby. She is fragile."
Maneuvering Al into a nearby chair, I gently placed Wellesley into his arms. He was so gentle, his golden eyes wide, as he softly whispered, "Hi, baby." over and over.
My chest filled with love and joy as I watched my family, all full of smiles. Three years ago, I never would have imagined a future like this. I looked up at Valleria, my love, my wife, my everything, and found that she had fallen asleep, her mother brushing her hair back from her face and wiping her forehead with a cool, damp rag.
The doctors and nurses had left and taken all the medical equipment with them sometime later. Al had fallen asleep against me not long after and Valleria had awoken to feed the baby. Now both kids were asleep, and Valleria and I had our first moment alone since she'd gone into labor forty-seven hours ago.
"She's perfect, isn't she?" Valleria's voice was soft with awe as she looked down at Wellesley.
I nodded before I realized she wasn't looking. "Yes, love, she's perfect."
Valleria smiled and sat up to place the baby in her bassinet. Sleep began to take me, so I pulled Al closer and tucked the blanket around us to keep him warm.
I'm so glad I dared to dream.
A/N2: What started as a brief look into Valleria and Elias's history pretty quickly spiraled into this 14k short story.
