The Spellcaster

IV

In the dream, everything fit together like a puzzle, crafted completely of bright, vivid colours that fit perfectgly together. He stood next to a gleaming river that flowed with crystal clear water that looked as if it had no impurities inside it at all; not even a single speck of dirt ran through its water. The green grass surrounding the river banks grew wildly and consistently stayed the same length and colour; evidently, it hadn't been trimmed for quite some time. Small flowers of pastel colours grew from the ground, their stalks partly hidden by the tall grass surrounding them. Somehow, there were no weeds growing amongst the plants, and the grass stayed a consistant shamrock green even as it dipped down towards the river banks.

The pastel flowers grew tall and gently swayed in the breeze. Noticing their beauty, he waded through the tall grass, and picked one off of its stalk. It was a beautiful amythst coloured iris flower - and he couldn't help but think that the flower was fitting for such a beautiful woman. He turned back on his heel to wade back through the long grass to the cherry blossom tree he stood under before. Now that he was by the river's edge, he could see that he was surrounded by acres of pastel pink trees. It was a beautiful place to wait for a beautiful girl.

He didn't know exactly who he was waiting for, but he knew that he had to wait. She would be here soon, he told himself. She'll be here soon.

Then, she appeared, wading through the grass as he did once before. It was as if the wind ceased stripping petals from the cherry blossom trees surrounding them, and the grass wasn't tickled by its breeze anymore. The river stood still, like a glass lake, and the birds ceased their constant, cheery chattering. There was nothing but her.

She was the moon in the night's sky; the centre piece to its dull surroundings. He held out the flower, and the wind picked up its strength once again. It whisked her hair across her skin, and the corners of her mouth twisted upwards with slight embarassment. It was a sincere smile  - her face lit up with joy and the sunlight glazed over her unnaturally bright eyes and illuminatied the freckles dotted over her nose. She tucked her crimson hair behind her ears where it blew across her face, and took the flower from his hand and tucked it into her hair. She glanced up at him; at his strikingly blonde hair and, in comparison, his dull eyes.

He smiled back at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world - and to him, she was.

*****

"Your Highness," Myrtice chimed, splitting the silken curtains of his bedroom window in half. She lifted the latch on his window, opening it and letting the breeze blow through her greying hair and into the room. "It's a fine morning! You simply must wake up!"

The Crown Prince groaned, pulling his sheets up higher over his body in defence from the cold. The morning's chilly air bit at his skin, sending sparks down his spine. Goosebumps raised on his skin, standing his hair up on ends. "What time even is it?"

"It's almost midday," the servant woman replied, a little too quickly , as if she was in a rush. "Lady Cecilia Ferondall will be arriving today in a few hours time for you to meet her."

Soran's stomach turned, and he suddenly felt the urge to be sick. He wasn't ready for such news - after all, he had only just woken up. "Oh, for Amyths' sake," Soran cried, turning over in his bed and hiding his face in his pillow. "Why must my mother always make arrangements for me like this?"

"Oh, I mustn't say a word against your mother for fear of being hung-" Her voice became little more than a whisper as she leant down towards Soran. "-but between you and me, I wouldn't have invited Lady Cecilia Ferondall today."

The prince shrugged, and replied a little louder. "If I had it my way, I wouldn't be married off at all."

"Oh, but you do know what day it is today, don't you?" She paused, and upon seeing his clueless expression, carried on speaking. "It's Lular's execution day, remember?"