Cassandra's Sorrow

Sometimes in dreams you know what lies ahead, but your body continues onward despite what you fear you will see. Such was the case in this dream, the knowledge of what would lie beyond the golden double doors as heavy as a lump of lead. The King had fallen, dead in his sleep, and entering his throne room would bring no respite from this fact, no solace in this hour of mourning.

And yet a pale hand reached out, pressing flat against one of the doors before pushing them open, exposing the throne room beyond. Elegantly decorated with a flowing red carpet that ran from the doorway to the imposing marble stairs that lead up to the golden chair upon which the King once sat, the chamber seemed gloomy and dreary, the red and golden banners with the King's lion depicted on them hanging limply in the sullen, bitter air.

She glided into the room, her legs moving not at all as was the nature of movement in dreams, and yet within a moment she had crossed a distance that would have been imposing in real life, the statues lining the alcoves between towering pillars that held up the sides of the room staring at her sightlessly, as if to cast blame. With a start she realized that all of their gazes were focused on her, and her heart began to pound in her chest as each of the stone creations wept pure, bright red tears of blood. She turned to flee, only to realize she had left a trail of bloody footsteps from the doorway to where she stood, as if tracking guilt along with her in her trek.

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With a start the covers flew up, a gasp escaping from the young woman beneath them. She bolted upright, her heart pounding in her chest and her small hands grasping the edges of the covers and twisting them as fear and anxiety gnawed at her, the dream's hold feeling as real as if she were actually there. For a moment she did nothing, merely panting and whimpering away the night terror, letting her breathing calm with each indrawn breath.

After a time she shifted, sliding the rest of the covers off and slipping her legs from beneath them. The marble of her floor was cold to the touch on her bare feet, but she paid it no mind, moving slowly across the room in the dark before taking up a candle and a small silver box that contained a fire ward within it, holding the metal to the candle until a tiny flame lit the wick.

With the room lit, the young woman sighed, setting the candle down on a nearby vanity and slipping into the chair sitting before it. She paused there, staring at what she saw in the mirror, still shaking from the fear the dream had brought.

A dark haired young woman in her early twenties stared back at her in the mirror, her long black locks in disarray from sleep. Deep blue eyes pondered her own, and she reached up to hook some of her errant hair behind one ear as she stared at herself.

Cassandra Arderne saw nothing particularly impressive in her reflection, the lingering fear and the fact that it was the middle of the night making her judge herself harshly. The young noblewoman was fair-skinned and when she chose to smile could infect others with her mirth. The events of recent days combined with the fear that still made her tremble and made chills crawl across her skin left little laughter in her though, and the sadness behind her own gaze and the pout of her full lips detracted from what beauty there was, at least in her own opinion.

With a sigh, she shook her head, trying to drive the dream from her mind. For a moment, something tickled the back of her mind, as if something was out of place. After a moment she realized with a start that her reflection had not also shaken its head, but instead continued to stare at her, now with some malice. With her eyes wide, Cassandra reached out, her hand nearly touching the glass just as a glorious pair of leathery wings sprang from her reflection's back. She jerked her hand back, horrified, as her reflection smirked at her, small horns protruding from her forehead and miniature fangs glinting in her mouth beneath the smile.

Cassandra reared up from her chair, her horror growing as she heard a flap of leathery wings behind her. She turned her head to see similar wings adorning her, and she screamed as she turned back towards the mirror and saw her reflection grinning at her with a mocking look on her face. In terror, Cassandra lashed out, her fist connecting with the glass and shattering it.

Shattering the dream she was once more immersed in.

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With a start and a shrill scream, Cassandra Arderne bolted up in her bed, truly awake this time and even more frightened than she'd been in her dream. She scrambled from her bed, diving frantically for candle and flame and driving away the night with her light.

For a few horrifying seconds she leaned against the wall of her room, her heart pounding in her chest as she took in her surroundings. Everything was as she'd left it when she went to bed that evening; her writing desk on the far side of the room neat and orderly, her armoire neatly packed with her clothes, the doors to her walk-in closets closed and her shoes neatly arranged on a rack beside the opening there. With a lump in her throat, Cassandra turned, looking to her vanity and the mirror that lurked there almost like a threat.

She took a deep breath, whispering to herself to bolster her courage, “It was only a dream. You're twenty two years old. It is just a mirror. If you had wings you would have been sleeping on them and they'd hurt right now. Look in the mirror. It was only a dream.”

She forced herself to take one step after another, approaching the vanity slowly, her hand shaking as she held the light. She almost fainted in relief when her reflection looked back at her, completely ordinary and not filled with some monstrous malice. She waved at it a few times, and it predictably waved back until she began to smile at her own foolishness.

While she had indeed only had a nightmare, Cassandra was prone to seeing dark visions and tidings of things she could not understand. Such a dream was not a rare occurrence, and at times they would portend grave events in her life. In this case however, the young heir of House Arderne could pinpoint what would have caused her to dream such dark dreams.

With another lump forming in her throat she knelt down beside her bed, reaching under it and withdrawing a box. She set the small wooden box on her bed, taking a ring from her vanity and pressing the ring's flat, engraved top against an oval on the wood. There was the faintest click as the seal on her ring engaged the box's lock and the construct opened, revealing the bundle of papers within. With a heavy heart, Cassandra reached down and took the letter on the top of the pile; one she had received only two days before.

My Dearest Cassandra,

Long has it been since we have seen one another, although I have received your letters and know your heart and mind. My distance from you reflects not on my feelings towards you, but on my duties to this kingdom and its people. Would that I could plot my own course; I would come by boat and sail away with you across the Lake of Stars and we would lose ourselves in the countryside beyond. Alas that this cannot come to be, for the turmoil it would cause could bring harms we cannot even imagine. Though it pains me to say this, a day may never come when I can profess my love for you openly to the world.

In due time, they will begin to speak of my family line, of whom I am to marry to carry on the name of my father and his father before him. The Houses will fight, will clamor and moan for their own chosen heir or bride to be selected. The choice cannot be made for love, but must be made for the stability of the realm.

My dear Cass, you know that I cannot choose to ignore such ritual and ceremony. Perhaps if my father were still alive he could make such arrangements, but my position is tenuous and the powers that be will take measures to stop me if they feel I've erred from their vision. Know that I would have chosen differently, if I had been given a choice at birth. I would have found a way to stay with you always, to hold you in my arms as I will hold you in my heart.

I know that these words will not keep you warm in the cold night, nor comfort you in your sorrow, and for that I am more sorry that I can say. But know that I love you, and shall always love you, until the end of my days.

With all my heart,

JG

Cassandra held the letter close for a moment, remembering the words that she had already committed to memory, the paper crinkling against her nightgown. Tears ran down her face as she brought the letter up again, her fingertips tracing the 'JG' at the end of the letter. The JG that King Jacob Goodforge had written in lieu of a signature that could possibly be discovered and fall into the wrong hands. The secrecy that he had been forced to endure made her weep with the thought of what it had done to their ill-fated love.

And now the King was dead.

Tears ran in streams down Cassandra's face as she reached behind her and took up her candle, carefully folding the letter and tucking it into her nightgown. She threw open the doors to her balcony, the Lake of Stars that the city of Clearcourt sat beside sparkling before her, the mass of her family's ancestral home a blackness behind as she walked barefoot into the chill of the night.

She paused, leaning against the railing and weeping openly, knowing that none would see her in the deepness of the night, her blurry vision watching the stars glitter on the water of the lake below her, the beauty not enough to still her sorrow. In time she managed to halt the flow of her tears, tilting her head back to stare up at the moon above.

The Kingdom of Olinoth had an unusual moon, one that hung in the exact same position every evening in the sky over the city and castle of Clearcourt. The pale blue circle of it glowed fiercely at the point just above the highest spire of Clearcourt's castle, shimmering rays of cool blue light flowing outward from it. In times past it was said that the light of the moon was so bright it dimmed all of the stars and made night almost as day, but in the endless march of time even the moon's glow dimmed and died, as had Cassandra's love the evening before.

“I ask you only one favor, my Goddess,” Cassandra whispered to the moon above. Many in the kingdom worshiped deities of the light and of the day, but a few like Cassandra worshiped the moon above, where it was said the Goddess Lycania resided and sent her blessings down on the people of Olinoth in the evenings.

Cassandra held up the letter as she spoke, her voice soft and her words a plea to her goddess, “Please take his soul to you, and protect him in the next world as I could not in this world. He deserved better than this. He deserved a life.”

With tears once more streaming down her face, the young noble looked down, taking the letter in her hand and holding the candle to its corner. She watched as the flames flared up along the edge of the letter, consuming the paper and turning it into ash beneath the steady glow of the moon's light. The ashes drifted up into the air and out over the lake, joining with the winking reflections of the stars above.

With a sigh Cassandra blew out the candle she held, standing in the silent darkness as her sorrow came over her again. At least she had destroyed the letter and any evidence that she had been involved in secrecy with the King. He had died somewhat mysteriously, and the last thing her parents needed was to have the blame for his death fall upon them in any way while the kingdom itself stood with breath held as it awaited word on who would rule next.

All of it would rush by Cassandra, who knew she had only this evening to mourn for the first true love she had ever experienced before she had to put a smile on her face and go about her business as if nothing had happened at all.

And all the while, the whispers of her dream remained, the fear clutching her heart with its cold talons.

*Original work. All rights Reserved. Copyright 2014.