DΛY ƬΣП

 

The kingdom had never looked so different.

The large statues bordering the island stare down at me as I stand in the middle of the courtyard. The ocean behind me ripples as masses of blood tinge its blue, weapons washing ashore. All I hear in this moment is the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears mixed with some form of tinnitus, loud and obnoxious. All I can do is watch, taking it all in.

All I can do is watch the village uproar; brick buildings crumbling as easy as sand castles. Through the fog of smoke over the mountains I don't miss the unusual absence at its top. And then my eyes fall on the debris. The way the castle once stood so proud and tall over the village slowly becomes a distant memory, and it's then reality sinks in. Who was going to protect us now?

Soon all I can hear is the sound of swords and spears colliding with one another so they're creating sparks, the air consumed by a cacophony of noise. Soldiers rushing at their foes in anger, falling to the ground the next second with blades deep in their chests. Parents ushering their children away as they scream in terror, trying so desperately to get away from the carnage. But like the soldiers, silenced instantly in the blink of an eye. My heart feels heavy in my chest, my breath completely taken from me. We were losing.

 

I closed my eyes for the briefest of seconds and when they open, the world around me swiftly changes. No longer am I standing out in the courtyard, hopeless. Instead I'm standing in the ruins of what once was the throne room. Statues and antiques shattered against the floor, the King's throne now just a pile of dust and rubble against the stairs. The King was nowhere to be seen, but my eyes are quick to attach to the mass of bodies-- royal men and women cowering away in the far corner besides the throne. Some dead, and the others begging for release with tears streaming down their cheeks; restrained by chains and northern warriors keeping them bound by silver swords to their necks. And then my eyes fall on the woman in front of me. Those familiar dark eyes glowing green, staff by her side. Jennie stares down at me, her gaze unnerving and her aura screaming pain. With one stiff grunt, her guards know what to do. The swords once held in warning soon pierce through their targets, not even a squeak of shock or a final breath leaving their now departed lips.

I open my mouth to scream, to shout and move forward-- anything to stop them. But it feels like my body isn't my own. No control over it whatsoever. Instead I stand still with my fists clenched by my sides, heat running through my body as everything unfolds before my very eyes. The moment my gaze falls on Jennie's once more, however, is when the world grows still.

One of Jennie's hands tangles in a mass of brunette locks while the other holds a long, sharp dagger up to their neck. The figure kneels down at the queen's feet with her back her so she was staring right at me, her face pleading and her eyes wide in shock. It was Yves. The tightening in my chest grows impossibly stronger, and it's only then do I move. My body rushes forward, a loud "No!" reverberating through the air. It sounded like an echo. Like it didn't come from me, but I knew that it did.

It happens in the blink of an eye. One second she was there. Alive. The sick sound of the blade at Yves' neck cutting deep is what has me growing numb. All I see is red. A sinister grin takes over Jennie's face but I can't find it within myself to look at her as I fall to the floor, ignoring the way my knees ache in pain at the sudden motion. My hands instinctively reach out to bring Yves' crumpling body close to mine, frantic. Her lifeless eyes stare back up at mine.

Pain. Anger. Disbelief. Grief. A mixture of emotions course throughout me in this very moment. The day I never saw coming was here. Holding her body as her last breath slips from her lips. And yet I can't bring it upon myself to cry.

I blink again and see that the world around me is dark. Yves' body no longer laying limply in my lap, Jennie and her warriors no longer crowding around us with menacing glares and sharp swords. I'm alone.




 

"Y/N!"


 

The moment my eyes snap open is when the world finally becomes clearer. Birds chirping and the sound of a distant clock, dim light peeking through the window and lighting the room up in a warm glow. It had to have only been early morning. In any other situation I'd have taken solace in this moment. But I couldn't. Not after that.

Whatever peace I felt instantly diminishes when I dart up in a fright, my eyes blown wide as my heart pumps erratically in my chest. I struggle to regain my breath, short puffs of air leaving me as I practically claw at my throat. It felt too real. Everything that happened, everything I saw... My mind races back and forth as my dreams weigh heavily on me. So heavy that I feel like my chest is caving. And then I feel the burning.

I don't give it a second thought before practically ripping my shirt from my body, the buttons of one of Yves' old blouses popping open. Slipping the shirt off my shoulders, I throw it to the ground. It felt too tight, like it was suffocating me. The burning on my chest feels stronger in just a second. A type of hundred-degree-burning that had my skin turning red, sweat forming. My eyes tear down to what was causing the painful sensation: the pendant laying loosely against my chest.

I wrap my hand around the chain and rip it from my neck, tossing it onto the table besides me. But instead of landing on its surface with a clatter as I expected it to, instead it does the exact opposite. Even I can't help but flinch, my hands retreating back into my body. Instead of bouncing off of it, it goes straight through. The side of the table caves in like it had been beat with a baseball bat, the wood chipping to accommodate the force of my throw. The table topples over, along with the journal, but I pay it no mind. All I can focus on is my hands. The burning on my chest disappeared along with the pendant, but there was no ignoring how different I felt. There was no ignoring what that was-- whatever the hell I just did, however the hell I did it. It's not until I feel a warm hand place itself on my back do I turn around, startled.

But when my eyes land on hers, her voice finally registering to me-- I do the only thing I knew how to. I start crying.

In any other situation I'd like to think I'd have handled myself better. That I wouldn't have instantly broken down and lost it. That I would be mature enough to not start crying, especially to her. But I just couldn't help myself. I drop to the floor and instantly take my head into my hands, sobs wracking at my body. Images from my dreams run rampant through my mind, and reality catches up to me for the nth time since I awakened. The reality of just where I was. The reality of what happened to dad. The reality of what was about to happen in two days. The possibility of failure.

I couldn't handle it.

I barely register the feeling of warmth that encases me when Yves suddenly drops to the floor, sitting so close that I could feel her breath on the side of my face. I don't miss the way she hesitates before reaching her arms out and slowly resting my head on her lap. I don't think twice before practically burying myself into the silk fabric of her clothes. I knew my tears were destined to leave marks, but I couldn't bring myself to care about it now. Soon all my mind can focus on is the feeling of her hand running through my hair, her fingers carefully combing out knots while the other softly grazes my cheek, wiping away my tears. I catch her eyes for the briefest of seconds, catch the way they narrow in worry, the way she bites her lip as she listens to my sobs. I felt embarrassed. I sniffle to regain myself, just inches away from pulling myself off her lap. But then, taking me by surprise, she shakes her head with a tsk and pulls me closer.

"Do not stop yourself. Do not be ashamed to be human."

That was all I needed. I'm quick to dig myself back into her lap, my arms wrapping around her waist so I'm practically hugging her. If it bothers her she doesn't say anything. She doesn't say anything about the way my grip tightens, about the way her legs surely hurt from the weight of my body on top of hers. She doesn't say anything about the way her shirt soaks up my tears, the way we sit on the hard wooden floor. She doesn't say anything at all. A silence passes between us as she holds me close, waiting for my tears to stop spilling. After a few moments the room grows quiet and I feel the way she hesitates. Testing the waters, she speaks after a beat-- soft.

"You were screaming in your sleep. You are lucky I was here and not one of my guards. Would you... would you like to talk about it?"

Yves. At first I thought she was a . A pure, absolute, heartless . When dad and I finally arrived at our new house I remembered the first conversation I had with myself. I could remember the anxiety I felt about starting all over in a new town, and if I thought being the new kid in high school was hard, nothing could compare to university. I asked myself if I wanted to play it low like Charlie Kelmeckis, be the wallflower that keeps to themselves, or go for the total reinvention and play Blair Waldorf: pretentious, confident. When I first met Yves I thought that was exactly who she was, only in her case, summed up in just four words: the Princess of Eden.

But now... Now that I knew her, that we spent more time together, that we were slowly warming up to each other with each passing day... Now I knew it wasn't true. She was a Charlie Kelmeckis in disguise.

Sensitive. Empathetic. True to herself. She wasn't just the princess of Eden to me.

I didn't realise I was drawn deep in my own thoughts until Yves speaks once more, and I can only picture the look on her face. I could only picture the way her cheeks heat up red, the way her eyebrows furrow and her lips pull into an apologetic grimace.

"I am sorry if I am prying."

I open my mouth to respond, but when I'm met with a face full of cloth I remember where I am. Slowly, ignoring the flush I feel slowly crossing my own cheeks, I push myself out of her lap so I'm meeting her eyes. Wiping away whatever tears lingering on my face, I could only pray to god that I didn't look hideous right now-- ugly crying face and all. I shake my head.

"No... don't be sorry. It was just a nightmare."

"Do you get them often? Night terrors have never been my favorite battles."

"No. I haven't had one in years."

I was being honest. I couldn't remember the last time I had one. The last time I woke up in a fit of fear because of my own dreams, crying my eyes out and burrowing myself under the covers to hide. Now that I thought about it, I'd never had something so extreme. Nothing even close.

Nothing that felt so real as if I was living it. Something so clear like and tangible. I'd heard of people talking about lucid dreaming before, of being in control over yourself while you're asleep. But I wasn't in control. I felt like baggage in my own body. Feeling a metallic taste rise to my senses, I knew it was sickness. The reality of my dreams were catching up to me. Dead bodies, blood everywhere.... Yves.

My eyes instinctively drop down to my hands as I fiddle with my ring.

"It felt so real..."

When Yves shifts it's then I remember the feeling of her warm hands lying limply around my waist, the hand once in my hair dropping to my leg when I sat up. The pads of her fingers drumming into my exposed skin has a chill running up my spine. I feel a ball form in my throat once more but this time for a separate reason. In any other situation I would've stood up wide eyed and looked for my shirt, internally berated myself for being so careless-- especially in front of her. But I couldn't find it within myself to move. My skin feels like static beneath her grip and it has my body burning, the ring on my finger heating as if reacting to her touch. She hums.

"Usually the worst of them do when they feed into your greatest fears. Once again if you would like to talk about it I am here to listen, Y/N." She trails off as if weighing her words then settles with a murmur that has me straining to hear her. "I must admit you gave me quite a fright."

Her words have me pausing, hesitating. Where would I even begin?

Images pop through my mind once more before I could stop them. The warriors bodies, parents and children, Jennie's wicked grin... Yves' body falling to the floor limply, her eyes so full of life one second then vacant the next. I grimace. My eyes fall back down to my lap as I stammer over my words. I open and close my mouth several seconds before settling on one.

"You."

The room grows silent.

I don't miss the way she startles for the briefest of seconds, the way her breath hitches in . The feeling of her hands tightening around my waist tells me she was surprised. Unnerved, even. I can just feel the furrow of her eyebrows when she responds.

"When I was younger my dreams use to be riddled by dread. They felt so real. So clear. I thought they were premonitions of the future, that knowing what was to happen would give me the power to stop them." She trails off. I take this moment to finally look up and meet her eyes once more but the moment I do, I feel my heart drop in my chest. She gives me a stiff nod and a solemn smile.

"But I was wrong. The overseer once told me that our dreams do not serve in absolutes. That the more we let them affect us, the more we act to stop them from becoming reality... you may just find yourself becoming the perpetuator. Whatever it is you saw, whatever your mind is telling you to fear... it is not real, Y/N. I am here."

 

For the nth time since I met her I'm left speechless. I wasn't sure how she did it. How she seemed to know exactly what to say to make me feel better. How she managed to know what I was feeling without even needing to ask. I stare up at her dumbly as she finishes her sentence with a deep breath, nodding along with her words to emphasise just how much she meant them. Suddenly the closeness of her body next to mine becomes all the more prominent as a silence passes between us. My words come out a faint breathy whisper as our eyes search each others.

"You sure do know your way with words, don't you, princess?"

"Perhaps." She purses her lips together, her voice just as quiet. "But I must admit I believe I am merely stumbling over my words in hopes they make you feel better. Seeing you upset... it is not a nice feeling."

I wasn't sure how it happened. The feeling of her breath softly fanning over my lips sends my mind into overdrive as our position finally sinks in. Half my body on