A Dark Night

Panting heavily, Ophelia sat still in the draped bed right after jolting awake.

The soft bedding felt wet under her touch, a testimony to the profuse sweating that usually accompanied her rising moments.

Her loud breathing was strained as her chest rose and fell, she tried to catch her breath and calm her erratically beating heart.

For over three months, different dreams stole the princesses sleep each night. Repeatedly, consistently and in such avid detail they mirrored reality to a near perfect extent.

These dreams would come upon her at the darkest hour, just when the moon reached its highest point on the black strewn skies.

And how they would torture her.

Some depicted gruesome scenes of bloody battles and terrible confrontations, others were tense and twisted, showing to her the cruelty of not just soldiers, but even the high aristocracy in their sick quest to satiate burning desires.

While most times she saw the lives of the lesser people, empty, deprived and riddled with sorrow, greed and malice in a war torn world.

Fear crept up to her from the edges of the unknown, gripping at her heart, but like before she shook it off in a bid to regain control over herself and her emotions.

Nothing good ever came from loosing her head and screaming into the dead of night.

Besides she forbade herself from rousing the young woman that laid soundly at her side. The woman's name was Vilda, she was sound asleep and completely unaware of the unease that seemed to nearly swallow the shivering princess whole.

Ophelia's lean fingers quivered slightly as she reached for her slender neck.

'No blood.' she thought relieved.

Releasing a tensed breath, the princess felt tears sting at the back of her eyes, gently she massaged her aching neck, still feeling a semblance of pain, with the memories of her slashed throat and split stomach still fresh in mind.

There were no cuts or bruises on her body however, not a single scratch, save the small mole right on top of her collar bone.

Despite how real and frightening the encounter had been, it remained only a nightmare.

For now at least.

Kicking her tired and slightly shaking feet off the bed, she retrieved a leather journal from where it was masterfully hidden away, within the intricate wood-board of a large oaken shelf, one which housed several books she'd read time and time again, as well as others she'd never seen before.

Tonight's dream was one of the worst so far.

Still slightly dazed, Ophelia began scribbling the events of her nightmare onto the journal. The three candlesticks on the faux gold candle-stand burned slowly, their light flickered in unison as cool air rushed into the room from the open window, which she'd instructed the maids to leave unclosed.

ENTRY...

~It is the fifth time this month, and once again Vilda and I died in the main courtyard while the king's palace burned.

Not that there was anything we could do to quell the flames, after all, we'd been stabbed and our throats were cut open.

However just lying there, dying slowly while watching my home burn down is not something that I would wish upon my enemies... Save my family.

Even though we are not much of a family.

These nightmares started exactly three months ago alongside news of my marriage, and since then they have stolen away my peace.

Slowly with each day that passes, they gnaw on the remnants of my sanity, leaving me less of myself.

Medicines and sleeping draughts are useless in the face of these morbid night terrors. I have tried everything that I am allowed to and continually they prove ineffective.

I do not know what else to do, I have no one to turn to for aid besides Vilda, and she is nothing but a handmaid from a fallen family.

My dreams scare her even more than they scare me, so I try not to bother her too much about them these days.

She believes they may be visions, small details of the future...I don't know what to think of them at this point.

Since over two weeks ago, Vilda has slept by my side. It doesn't help, but it calms me immensely to wake up to her friendly face rather than by my lonesome in this dark, suffocating room.

Yes! That remind me.

My lodgings was also changed within that time, when word of my marriage was officially announced by the king, my uncle.

By uncle's order I was granted the adorned pearl chamber in the west palace. It's name does little justice to it's refinement, as the room is lavish and magnificent, by far one of the most beautiful in all the palace's.

And how I hate.

The pearl chamber is neither a gift or an act of the king's goodwill, rather it is a final statement.

The opulent residence has always had a single purpose since it's creation many, many years ago. And that was to house the daughters of Augustus who were to be married within a fortnight. The said princess would be granted access to this gilded chamber within the due time before her union, as well as a quarter of her dowry, and a single request from the king, as was dictated by tradition.

So relocating from the ramshackle where I used to live, to this lavish bedroom was nothing short of a final agreement that would seal my fate as a bargaining piece. And there is absolutely nothing I can do stop it.

In my recent nightmares I never got married, the opportunity did not present itself so I remained alone and forgotten, till I was eventually killed during the uprising.

I cannot tell which is more troubling, marrying a man I have never met under to appease the royal family.

Or refusing to marry by any means, and being subjected to a life similar to the one I live in these dreams.

And if these incessant nightmares are truly visions? What am I to do then!

I still remember the first time one of them tormented me, and what a long time ago it was.

Just a little girl, I had only reached nine years of age when the news came that father had passed away at war. They said that he was thrown from his horse in a battle during the sack of Visgoth, that was the last that any ever saw of him alive.

I remember the four riders who brought the awful news to us.

But that is not all.

The night before father's untimely passing, one of these dreams visited me. Although the details remain unclear to this day, father had also died in it..

And now they have returned to terrify me again. So I ask...

Is there a possibility that these nightmares are not merely what they seem?

Are they truly visions?

Glimpses into the scattered fabric of time?

And If they are real, if I allow myself to believe that they are visions, then does it mean that I am going to die painfully in this life as I have repeatedly done in those nightmares?

Will the Augustus household truly be destroyed by Caspian and the sultan of Ganaia?

I wish there was someone...

Anyone, who could help me.

END OF ENTRY.

'No one knows of Caspian Greyhorn...not yet at least.' She thought. 'And there are no records of the sultan Aveenlaziz.'

Ophelia calmly stared with tired, unblinking eyes at the fanciful domed ceiling that held an adorned candelabra.

"Your highness," Came Vilda's raspy voice.

She spoke softly in an attempt to not surprise the princess, whose furrowed brows were pulled together in a frown.

The subtle call however, didn't stop a distracted Ophelia from jumping in her skin on the intricate wooden chair where she reclined.

"Ahh... I'm sorry for startling you,"

Villda's quick apology followed as she threw the heavy blanket to the side, and hurried to get up in an attempt to join the princess, who's words halted her actions.

"It's alright Vilda,"

Ophelia said warmly, mustering a smile for the petite servant that still looked drowsy from sleep.

"Go back to bed."

"Your highness I am already awake, there's really no need for me to,"

"I know Vilda, but I want you to rest more, one of us should at least.' She thought bitterly.

"But-but your highness,"

The handmaiden stuttered trying to think of all the reasons to stay up with her lady, without the princess's consent however, there was no reason she could think of.

"Vilda. Sleep."

Came Ophelia's final instruction which left no room for arguments.

With a resigned sigh Vilda wished her a goodnight then laid back down. That was when something an important struck her, and she told a pondering Ophelia.

"Princess you should also try to get some rest, tomorrow will be quite a busy day."

"Indeed...?"

Came her absent minded response. Her fingers halted on the journal's cool parchment as she remembered she hadn't had a busy day all this time.

So what was Vilda talking about?

"Busy how?"

Ophelia questioned, she cast a glance at the maid who'd once again tucked herself beneath the heavy blankets.

"You'll be meeting your betrothed come morning, or have you forgotten?" Vilda innocently questioned.

'For the love of the gods!'

Ophelia hissed, pressing both her palms to her face in frustration.

"I Forgot."

Vilda shot up from the bed a second time, pulled a confused face at the princess, then asked.

"How could you?"

"Well I have more important things on my mind,"

"More important than your marriage?"

The maid questioned.

She was used to speaking freely with the princess as long as it was only the both of them, although she made sure to use appropriate titles and never her name.

Ophelia didn't mind anyways.

"A forced union Vilda."

The princess commented, scribbling more information unto the journal.

"A union is a union your highness, even if it is not what you want,"

She paused when the maid said this, a drop of ink on the tip of the quill fell onto the parchment, as a somber air engulfed the room, and on cue the maid fell silent.

'A union is a union.' Ophelia thought, 'Even if it is forced, it is better than nothing at all.'

Better than nothing at all.

When her uncle informed her of the impromptu wedding, the princess had readily agreed. Although back then she only wanted to escape the palace, and marriage was simply the most justified way for a person like her to do so.

Yet in the reoccurring nightmares she'd had in the past nights, there was never a form of marriage on her part. Her life and death had been within the confines of the palace.

Over and over again.

"That's it!"

The princess exclaimed suddenly, startling Vilda.

If these dreams were visions as she was coming to believe, then the princess would not just be escaping a life of loneliness, but also the fate that awaited the royal family at the hands of Caspian Greyhorn and the Sultan of Ganaia.

"What is it? Are you alright princess?"

A worried Vilda inquired.

"If it's real then I only need to avoid such a terrible outcomes," And if it is not real, then I have nothing to loose, the princess thought.

"I feel much better Vilda. Thank you."

She said rushing to hug the poor woman who'd sat still on the bed.

"I don't quite understand,"

The confused Vilda confessed.

"Why are you thanking me?"

"Because! You just made me realize something I hadn't thought of before. Thank you Vilda truly."

The princess smiled at the handmaiden, who though still confused, gave the condition to only accept her thanks if she kept her journal and tried to sleep.

To which the Ophelia finally agreed, while thinking.

'If these nightmares of mine turn out to be visions, then all I need to do is alter the events that I know of. And maybe doing that will somehow affect what is yet to come.

Maybe... just maybe I can change the future.'

The princess pulled the thick cotton blanket over her shoulders and smiled.

"Let's start by getting married."

"Did you say something your highness?"

"Yes, but go back to sleep."

"Sleep well princess."

Vilda said blowing out the candles.

"Sleep well Vilda."

'I won't let us die in real life, I swear it.'