Buried In Thorns

Isabella's Dream 10

There was nothing before there was color, my mind stirred awake before a whisper of warmth brushed across my being and shook the darkness, and like stars from the sky, the darkness fell away as color spread until everything was as bright as it was mine.

The flowers were so vibrant, that they appeared to blur at the edges, like smudges from a painting. Swaying in a wind that I could almost see swirl around in wonderful patterns as the colorful petals followed with them as they went further. I let my fingers run through the blades of grass, sliding further down until I was laying on my side, the tall flowers the only things I could see. 

How peaceful, how serene. I took in a deep breath, feeling the warm air fill my lungs, I smiled. It was the closest to tasting sunshine. It had to be. Sudden laughter, throaty and kind filled the air. I leaned up to watch Papa pull a woman with long flowing dark locks of hair into his arms, his eyes following her vividly. Her words lost to my ears, but the tone of her words pulling at each heart beat, forcing me to sit up until I found myself standing and stumbling forward. 

Each step pulled them away, further and further as they laughed and walked away from me. But I knew. I knew it was my mother.

Mother!Mother! Turn to me, please, just once, look my way! Let me bask in the warmth of your smile, let the memory of your laugh live within me. Bless my ears with the melody that is your voice, and touch me so lovingly, as you once did when I was but an infant. 

My lips parted, but the echos of my thoughts drowned out and distorted my words. Nothing made sense, but then a voice that did not belong to me brushed up on my being again as their words flew across the sky like a burning ball of fire, blinding me once more.

"Dream true, dream free, dream of me." They whispered softly.

There was a pull, as if a layer had been scraped from me and flowed to my feet, the foundation for my next steps. Unsteady for a moment before solidifying. 

Gone were the bright colors, now browns and heavy shades of earth made the walls of my homes, once happy, now worn down, but just as lovable as they had been since the first moment I set eyes on them. Yet, even in the comfort of my home, I could not be still as the knocks came at the door. Pounding would be a better word. Again and again, they beat their fists against the door, yelling out rude things that couldn't be true.

I turned to my father, but his vacant eyes only looked elsewhere as he twisted the stencil in his hand absent-mindedly. It was his comfort, but even now I knew it would not distract him for long. It seemed as if time slowed and reversed, repeated. Tick. Tick. Tick. Again, they were at the door.

We would lose the land. The meadows. The colors and the laughter of the people. But like this house, they too had lost the vibrancy, the easy joy, and had dulled, grown tired and weary, and it was all our faults.

How could I fight for something I had not thought to fight for before? But if not I, then who? I turned to my father as he turned back to the past. I had to look away, to the future, and do what I could to be brave. To be more. My eyes landed on the invitation on the table. The world swayed around me as I walked forward, picking up the invitation and making my way to my room, but the stairs did not take up, but rather down as the world melted into a blended shade of gray as I stepped out from a carriage and looked up to the castle and its towering entirety. Never could I have imagined the sight before me.

It was cold, unfamiliar, and utterly imposing. It toward over me with its strength and power. Waiting. They were all waiting as they led me, knowing more than I did what I was walking into. All I could do was breathe and be brave. Be more. The eyes followed as they stood as still as statues, whispering, murmuring, warning and laughing.

'Nobles are two types of monsters Isabella. Never forget that.' My father's warning as I looked at my fingers, the oddly shaped claws at the end that only came out when anger overpowered me, but that never grew too much.

'You escaped the curse, they did not.' His parting words a warning. Not enough of one, I thought.

Monsters lurking in beautiful skins covered in silks and jewels.

Beasts covered in furs and scales, feral grins that snapped at me to come play. 

I had escaped? Had I really? 

Dinners and hope that the king of these monsters still had humanity within him. Planning and hoping that everything I did would show my sincerity. I just needed to be truthful and hope I was enough, brave and more. To know that I had tried for once to do what I could for my people and their dull colors.

He was a mixture of a monster in silk and a beast in scales and fur. Why describe nightmares when they walked, and sat from across you? Eyes that peered and dared, whose calm words spoke of sound mind, but whose body did not allow you to relax in his very presence. 

Past the fear, the trembling finger tips and heavy breaths, there was something else coursing through me. Adrenaline, I suppose? I wasn't sure. Never had I sat in the presence of death and been so sure that I did not want to die without accomplishing what I had never dreamed to start. And yet here I was. As time passed, the familiar tick, tick, tick, I found time to be present. To be still. I lived in his presence. 

I spoke my mind and he listened, although my words seemed to offend him. That I wanted so little while risking so much. I was within a den of monsters, I knew that, but they did not terrify me as much as he did, nor as much as the blur of time and despair for what I longed to save and yet could not. Why could I not be brave then? If I could sit in across from this odd monstrous beast, then I could do more. 

There was uncertainty in silence. There was fear and fright in each second. Tick.Tick.Tick.

Then there was hope. There was hope as he sat across from me, speaking in a reproachful, scolding manner, but still polite and distant as if he had nothing to do with this. It was fascinating. His confidence. His poise. His power.

Here I could help father and our people. Bring back their joys. Bring back the colors.

I could be brave. I could be more. 

Another whisper shot across the sky, the words forgotten as darkness sprinkled across my world, painting night, but there was something about the words that sounded familiar, an edge that pulled at my mind, trying to wake me. Before I could think much of it, the last color faded as my mind returned to its restful state and I slipped from awareness.

________

A/N: 

Nothing much to say, but a whole lot to write. Yup. 

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