Chapter Text
The sun casts a light glow over the landscape, caressing shadows into the hills, dark spots where the light didn't dare to reach. The gray stone that is your window sill is chilled in the dewy morning air. A brash ray of light peaks over the eastern mountains as sunlight pierces sheer white curtains. The translucent fabric does very little to soften the sun's rays as warmth creeps up your arms, dragging you into the morning. Arms stiff and heavy with sleep pull silken sheets away from your face, ears privy to an incessant tapping on your heavy wooden door.
"Who is it," your voice murmurs through the wood, the rough and cold stone bricks are uncomfortable underneath your feet as you take tentative steps towards the door. The sound of fingers against spruce wood ceases.
"Just coming to wake you, princess, your fathers told me to fetch you for breakfast in 20 minutes," a feminine voice can be heard through the wooden slats. "Do you need me to warm your water for a bath, princess?"
"That won't be necessary, I’ll wash after lessons." A new tapping of steps rhythmically recedes down the hallway as the nameless servant wanders into one of the many corners of the castle. You can see the endless hallways of stone brick, each so carefully memorized and burned into the back of your brain, a maze that you are never meant to leave.
The sweet pull of the sunshine gently tugs you from melancholy thoughts. The city twists your chin, turning you to the window where small plumes of smoke rise from the shops that line cobblestone streets, the height of your tower makes the horse-drawn carriages look like little toys that are being pulled down the road as if by magic.
The city is vast, stretching past the marketplace to where a small river splits the city, carving a water-filled chasm between the craftsmen and the oak-thatched roofs of warm homes. A large drawbridge on either side of the water meets in the middle during daylight hours, allowing residents to cross freely, at night the great wooden planks are lifted by their chains, rendering the fast-flowing river impassable.
A whisper in the back of your mind.
airhead, we're meant to be getting ready, stop getting distracted
But the city is beautiful, I can spare it some attention before I must get dressed
your fathers don't like to be kept waiting, it is probably prudent to join them for breakfast on time, the city will be there every morning, a quiet reminder of your status and inevitable future of the throne, the city waits expectantly, promising a future of responsibility and difficult decisions, but you can cross that bridge when you reach it, for now, a wardrobe of dresses calls your attention.
The large closet is made of, like most things in the old castle, spruce wood, it is polished, but still presents a somewhat ashy color, small veins of gold are inlaid into the grain of the wood. A tug on the ivory handle lets the doors fall open, swinging on their oiled hinges as velvet and silk spill from the contents.
Practicality is important, many of the dresses have been altered to allow for pockets, the works of the seamstresses responsible are smooth and nearly seamless. Your hand gently tugs down a lovely length of yellow. It's mid-length, pretty yet functional, matching the summer season in both color and style, a boat neck falls across your collar bones and dips low in the back allowing the warmth of the sun to run up your spine.
Don't keep father waiting, he has a temper sometimes
Breakfast is waiting, you must hurry
Wool is soft and warm, slippers made of it work well to protect your feet from the unforgiving stone as you pad down the halls, footsteps nearly silent. All of the hallways look the same, gray bricks, identical sconces lining the walls, whoever decorated hadn't been very creative. The castle was vast, the dreary hallways only making up a small fraction of the space, the dining hall opened into a brightly lit room. Light dances off a chandelier, scattering the illumination from lit candles onto the bright red tapestries that remained tacked to the wall.
"Excuse me, lady," a maid in plain black nods towards you, she was a little shorter than you, her face unfamiliar, "can I help you to your seat." A subtle nod of your head prompts her to pull out a chair, ushering you onto the waiting cotton cushion that is spread across the seat.
"If you don't mind me asking," you speak softly, "where are you from? I don't recognize you."
"Most princesses aren't very familiar with their staff, but I’m not from this castle," you stiffen a bit in your seat, "rest easy, lady," she soothes, "I traveled here from the eastern kingdom, accompanying my master, he will be joining you for breakfast I believe." You let out a breath, nodding your head in understanding at the maid as she shuffles back down the cold hallway. The table is deserted, the only sign of life is faint clanging sounds from behind the swinging doors of the neighboring kitchen.
They rushed me out of bed, yet leave me waiting at the table, nice one fathers
As if on queue, distinct footsteps lead a figure around the corner, the eyes that meet yours are green and lack warmth.
"I’m supposed to be joining my fathers for breakfast this morning," you say, trying not to sound rude, yet also pushing for an explanation as the stranger proceeds to seat himself across from you.
"As am I," he replies, eyes meeting yours over the empty plates, silver spoons, and dark stained table, the coldness in them is unnerving, unsettling you despite his warm tone and overall demeanor.
"You're the second person to be a stranger to me this morning, why do you sit so confidently at this table? Who are you that my fathers invite you to sit here?" your soft voice drifts through the air, your question direct and unavoidable, demanding.
"The kings requested my presence, I expected the matter to be discussed with you pre-my-arrival, my name is Dream, and-" his answer is cut short, frustrating, his attention drawn to the set of figures that move to sit at the head of the table.
“Fathers,” you nod as they settle into the chairs, an air of uneasiness has settled at the table like a tangible fog. “How are you this morning?”
“Fine,” your father replies, his word rings heavy in the air, is that all, so few words for their precious princess.
Dream speaks before the silence can set in, “I was just explaining to the princess why you have invited me here your highnesses,” skep and halo nod at his words, maintaining their silence, “I didn’t get to finish, would you like me to continue”
“No,” Halo enunciates flatly, your father’s face remains one of stone, “let’s eat first, I wouldn’t want to spoil her appetite.”
Why would Dream’s presence spoil your appetite?
Food threatens to be bland as you eat, not noticing the taste behind all the thoughts that play in your mind. They turn cartwheels in your cerebrum, the morning air turned sour. The meal is spent throwing trepidatious glances towards the other members of the table, observing how they seem to speak in drawn-out and meaningful eye contact. They speak in body language and expressive stares, leaving you out of their conversation.
You can’t help but feel a small pang of jealousy because of their communication, which nobody cares to share out loud, perhaps they're too afraid, perhaps the conversation carries weight.
Heavy, why does it feel so heavy this morning
The weight of the world lingers on your silver fork, unable to bring it to your mouth, the food growing cold in stubbornness.
Somebody needs to speak
Yet you refuse to break the silence, instead, letting the silence build up a knot of nerves in your stomach, filling up the space where food should go. The small pangs of hunger subside, any thought of breaking the silence is pushed away by the suffocating silence that has laid itself heavily on your throat.
Shhh, they don’t need your desperate conversation
The dull light that refracts off the glass chandelier casts a humorless glow across the table, flickers of yellow light cascade unappealing shadows on the uninviting features of your visitor.
He makes you uneasy, I don’t think you like him
Perhaps he’s from the west, a kingdom of hostility that has been a looming threat over the other countries. The thought of the kingdom of killers sets you on edge, surely your father wouldn’t be so imprudent as to let someone who hails from the west into the castle walls.
The northern and eastern kingdoms have proven to be far more welcoming, but something about this stranger is not palatable, he seems on edge despite his relaxed demeanor.
Breakfast couldn’t have dragged slower, but when the final piece of food is lifted from the delicate porcelain dish a weight is lifted as you stand from the comfortable wooden chair and motion to excuse yourself back to your quarters.
“Wait,” halo said, his voice firm, reverberating across the stone brick walls, “you have to join us for a meeting this morning, love, it’s important and regarding our guest.” You summon a bright smile onto your face despite the irk of annoyance.
The meeting will most likely be brief as always, and it pulls you away from some of your more tedious responsibilities, this can be a good thing. Your attire isn’t at all fit for entertaining such an important guest as your fathers’ make Dream out to be, but you don’t particularly care. You were burdening the inconvenience of having to charm this guest, and he makes you so nervous, it is disconcerting how cold he seems.
“Will you be staying long?” you ask.
“I hope so,” Dream answers. His answer is succinct, not opening room for conversation, yet you press on.
“Where do you travel from?”
“The east.”
Suspicious, he doesn’t have an eastern accent, you were so sure that he was western, you must like him even less now
“You sound western, I wouldn’t have guessed you hail from the east,” you plaster on a forced smile.”
You see through him, don’t you?
“That’s funny,” he replies, “I’ve never been to the western kingdom.”
His reply leaves your distaste for him growing, there’s not enough time to linger on the subject as you arrive at one of the numerous rooms used for diplomatic meetings. The stone walls are hidden by bookshelves and maps of various regions, the books containing various foreign law and dull histories of agreements forged by fat forefathers who cared little for future generations. The map of the west looms on the western wall of the room, the map nearly blank with the lack of knowledge gathered about the dangerous nation.
“Do you know much about the west?” Skep asks you, his voice carrying a pleasant lilt as it floated over the broad table that took up most of the room.
“Not as much as I would like to,” you reply, “its government is riddled with corrupt politicians, and every transfer of power is bloodier than the last.” Your eyes continue tracing the rigid shape of the western kingdom, your gaze carves over each peninsula and bay in the shoreline.
“Yes,” Halo speaks, roping the conversation around the table as you let your mind go quiet, “our western brothers aren’t the most peaceful, in fact, they have been threatening violence on the other three nations for quite some time, but since Schlatt came into power these threats have become a lot more real.”
Those western savages
“And that’s where I come in,” Dream intrudes, he earns himself a brief, yet, sharp glare from Skep that goes unnoticed.
“Correct,” Halo continues his monologue, brushing off Dream’s impromptu interruption, “since this promise of war has become serious the Skep and I have been exploring the idea of forming an alliance with either the northern or eastern kingdoms in order to deter Schlatt’s attack.”
“What could we possibly offer them?” you ask, a headache already forming as the stress presses at your temples.
“We are considered the weakest nation,” Skep supplies, you turn to face your father, “we pride ourselves in our ability to keep peace within our walls and therefore have no large or especially skilled army like the eastern or northern kingdom, but we can form an alliance by marriage,” he pauses to observe your reaction, you will your face not betray you, keeping the corners of your mouth from tugging into a frown. “Both the eastern and northern kingdoms have male heirs, your father and I decided to favor numbers over skill, the eastern king was contacted and his heir was sent to the castle.”
“If you are willing,” Halo recites, “we would like you to marry Dream.”
No