I often wonder where we all go when we fall asleep. When I lay down to rest and my vision slows and my eyes shut, my mind takes me to the past. Coran Godwyn's eyes, dull and lifeless, skin pale and sheen-like stare up at me when I sleep. I see my uncle and the blood dripping from his sword, his deep breaths as though he himself felt guilty for what he had done. The world around me had felt different that day, it was like all the joy and color had been washed away. Red, the color of my blood was the only color to stain that once-dark kingdom, and as I stood; my fingers clawed at the world's veins.
Thus, where do we go when we all fall asleep? Perhaps I do go back into the past when I dream, or maybe my mind is just cruel and enjoys playing tricks on me. There is no maester in the world who can give me an answer and so, the next morning when I wake, I choose to forget about my dreams.
Instead, I find myself hearing my brother speaking to the other houses of Floren. The throne room was a large circular room with vines streaming from top to bottom, flowers entwined in its greenery, and pixies zooming around the room. Murals of fae, elves, and other creatures of Floren are painted across the walls. But, the ceiling has always been my favorite painting, for it is one that holds a mural of Floren with thousands of floating lanterns surrounding it. In front of all the chaos sits a throne made of ancient wood and golden vein-like streaks run through its oak. The throne has branches clawing out from it, as though it were protecting whomever sat on it with its wood. The man who sits on the throne doesn't quite need the protection though, twigs are no match for my brother.
Airen lounges on the throne as though it was made for him like he had been sitting on it since the beginning of time. There was one point in my life when I thought my brother would never be king, I never believed him to be a leader. Until the war came my brother, barely fifteen namedays at the time managed to rally up the great houses of Floren, seize control of our family's army, and lead. Now when I look at him, I still see my brother. I still see the boy within him but I also see, a king. It's strange watching him wear the crown our father once bore but it gets easier every day.
"The low fae ravage through my farm! They have since stolen five of my lambs and I found one of my horse's guts slashed open. Soon they'll get bored of thieving and killing my animals and find themselves capturing one of my boys! I beg of you my king, stop them," I stare down at the farmer whose hands were clasped together, watching as he expressed his dire concerns for the wild fae in the forest.
Low fae were unlike any other creature in Floren, they were wild and savage. Untameable but most of all visicous. During the war some low fae rebelled and joined my uncle's forces, those fae were slain at least, most of them. Airen had been trying for countless years now to keep the low fae out, killing any he could find or offering peace terms (if he was in a good mood of course.) Alas, faeries are like roaches, and no matter how many times you swat stomp, or kill, they just keep coming back. It was a never-ending fight, one I've advised my brother to give up many times. It'd be easier if he simply let them be, reminded them of who was in charge, and let them kill whatever else resided in the deep forest.
My brother sighed and waved his hand lazily before speaking, "Have you tried warding them off with sigils yet? Did you put pixie dust around your home?" Airen asked the man two questions which I'm sure the entire kingdom has heard by now. My brother receives the same answer every time.
"The sigils only do so much, it prevents them from entering my home but my animals are not protected by such magic! I use the pixie dust on me and my boys but scarcely, for it's been much harder in recent times trying to get pixie dust," the farmer answered with the exact same response as anyone else who has been a victim of low fae antics. However, the pixie dust shortage has been a recent complaint. Pixie dust, as described by its name is produced by pixies. Many years ago it was discovered that pixie dust could be used to protect oneself from fae enchantments. Pixies began producing the magical dust when high fae still ruled, it was to protect themselves from enchantments.
Airen nodded his head slowly, "You shall receive ten lambs and two horses for your troubles. And I assure you, no more low fae will rummage through your farm," he dismissed the smallfolk before standing from the throne.
"Before you all may leave, I have an announcement," Airen's hand was still in the air as he quieted down the crowd. As he spoke, I felt my fingernails digging into my skin, leaving behind reddened crescent-shaped marks on my palms.
"Your princess and my sister," Airen paused for a short moment, "Will be wed to Prince Aemond Targaryen, son of King Viserys Targaryen as I would assume you all already knew," His voice boomed throughout the room. For a mere moment, it was quiet and then the commotion began.
"The Targaryen's?" One voice shouted.
"Westerosi scum!" Another unknown voice spat out, the people of the court were divided with disagreements about the betrothal.
I looked around noting every word being said, some saying it was a terrible idea and that the Targaryen dynasty was nothing more than white-haired freaks. Some believe it is a great idea for Floren to align themselves with the seven kingdoms. I enjoyed listening to the ones who called them white-haired freaks more.
"Quiet!" Airen shouted, his voice silencing the room. "The princess will marry Aemond Targaryen, that is the end of it!" he seethed and left the throne room with his guards quickly following behind him.
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Mere hours later, I lay beside Liana beneath the blazing sun. Its warmth cast rays on my cheeks and heated up the green earth beneath my feet. Liana was blabbering on and on about how tiny and adorable pixies were, at least I think that's what she was talking about. I could not focus, my mind simply would not rest. How could I rest? When I knew that in a few moons, I'd be married off to a one-eye prince.
"My Mama says that the prince you are to marry is cruel," Liana suddenly blurted out. It was at that moment I finally lifted my head up from the ground and turned to look at her. My niece was picking flowers out from the ground, playing with them between her small hands.
"Did she say why?" I asked plainly and laid my head back down.
"What do you mean, why?" Liana questioned. I sighed and lazily lifted myself from the ground once more.
"Well, why is he cruel?" My voice was soft-spoken but my patience was wavering.
"You have to have a reason to be cruel?" the little princess asked with a confused expression. I nodded.
"Cruelty is made not born, Liana. But anyway, I suppose your mama is right. He's probably spiteful because he's missing an eye."
"The prince does not have an eye?" Liana gasped and moved closer to me, I simply hummed.
"He must be the cruelest in all the lands then!" And at her last words, I giggled.
"Ah yes, the cruel prince," I smiled between my words and laid back down to bask in the sun. Liana fell silent as well during those blissful moments when the world around us was nothing more than a dull buzz in our ears, I look back on that day, hurt by my nostalgia. That silence which engulfed us, haunts me.
Nothing has been silent in my life since that afternoon.
