Echo | Dream Team

One - Of dreams and darkness

Blood. Horror. Death. Despair.

He longed for a life where dreams were not a nightmare for him. A life where he could lay down to rest and do exactly that without being woken up in the deep of night, perspiration trickling down his face and the sides of his neck, his heart echoing in his ears like the sound of drums at the kingdom's festivals. A life where he was simply ordinary.

It was just his luck that he was anything but that.

Other children grew up in humble houses, or within the walls surrounding the castle if they had a higher position in society. George grew up in a house with poverty etched into the surface of its worn wooden walls and threadbare clothes. His father died early, leaving a toddler with a grieving widow and next to no money. His mother ended up spreading a rumor about his talents, catching the king's attention and getting them moved to the castle. Empty cups and shivery clothes became full tables and luxurious robes. George had been sold out to the royal family, all so that his mother could live a more comfortable life.

"You shouldn't be complaining," his mother had said when he brought it up. "You now live like a prince. Haven't I done all of this for you?"

No, George thought. You did it for yourself. I was simply the tool you used to get to the end result.

But he had learned a long time ago to keep his mouth shut.

The king treasured his ability. George barely understood what he was capable of himself, but people were always telling him about it. His dreams showed different possible realities, and even though he never knew which ones would actually happen, he made sure to tell them all to the king. His dreams saved countless lives. Sometimes, he even felt like a hero.

But he knew that it was all a lie. Because he still kept back the ones that scared him. The ones that could truly save people.

Wars. Rebellions. Deception. Betrayal.

The king deserved to know, but George was too afraid to say anything. And so he hid in the curtains and peeped out, watching as his silence brought innocent men to the guillotine and helped the guilty to escape.

Once, he tried to escape himself. He hated the feeling of being the reason that so many had died while the evil ones got away, all because of his own cowardice. He tried to run, but it had been futile. He had planned precariously and prepared ropes and fresh clothes and even food for when he did not have enough, but he hadn't even made it out of the castle before he had been caught in all of his runaway glory, hanging below the window, clutching the ropes tightly in his hands. If he hadn't been worried about what would come after he got away, maybe he could have focused more on the getting away part.

The king had personally given him a talking to. He had been very angry. Angry enough to lock him up in a room and leave him there ― "With no ropes or anything that even remotely resembles a rope!" ― for an entire week.

Seven days all by himself. Seven days stuck in his room, wondering how his life had become so difficult, so quickly. Before, he worried about the mundane ― how to survive the harsh winters and how to keep their home to themselves, not sold to the merchants to get some extra coin. Now, he worried about how to escape from all the good that had simply been handed to him and whether or not he would get caught doing so. George had vowed to never try anything like that ever again. Being alone in the room with nothing but his own silence to keep him company had been horrible.

The day the servants let him out, he immediately beelined towards the meadow just behind the castle and stayed there for as long as he could, basking in the sunlight and jumping around on leaves to make as much sound as possible. His movements had caught the attention of a beige-black-furred cat that had slinked out of the forest, blinking large azure eyes at him. George had gotten attached immediately. When he had taken it back to the castle, the head cook had taken one look at it and proclaimed that it was a male. Then she had shooed the feline ― and George ― out of the kitchen.