Splintered Regime

In A Field of Blue

George woke up in a deadly daze, he can still feel how the magic felt as it coursed through the knife pursuing the skin of the so-called late queen.

He understands that the king is the one of his kingdom, but the queen? He does not recognize her, for the Queen of Lyrant is very alive and she is a blonde, not brunet like the one in his vision-like dream.

He doesn't think much of it as he does not really understand what is going on. After all, he is only twelve. 

As soon as he stands the weight of the dream -or rather nightmare- crashes onto him. He remembers the words bonded to the knife but not just in a tongue he does not understand but the one he has known his whole life.

It is as though he has learned another language, but has no recollection of it. He had heard the words as though their sound was meant for his ears and his ears only. 

Tearing Up Books
Breaking the Bond
Taking up Life
To the World Beyond
Searing Soul
Wasting Hearts
Returning  the Throne
To the Unknown

Whilst getting dressed in his normal attire of a light brown leather tunic, beige stockings, and dark brown leather boots, he silently repeats the words of the what he presumes was a spell to himself trying to figure out the importance, but his thoughts get interrupted by the blare of a sweet sounding trumpet. A trumpet that could only mean one thing. The return of the royal honor guards.

Now in a quicker rush than ever, he runs outside just in time to see the kingdom's knights on their white horses returning from what George imagined to be an epic battle with a far off kingdom.

Of course he knew they were just surveying the kingdom, but he liked to believe that they only went on daring missions given by the King himself. 

"Hey, kid! Move out of the way, let me through," an older man yelled at the young boy as he violently shoved him. "I need to get through to get to work. I can't waste time on you standing here doing nothing. As nothing is done by itself you know," He states shoving George to the ground on the side of the pathway.

Too scared to even look the man in the eyes for fear of a worse punishment than being shoved to the ground he states, "Yes sir, sorry sir," as quickly as possible. He did not know why but he has always felt smaller than everyone else.

Always feeling as though he needs to apologize and tell them it was his fault even though most of the time it wasn't. He tended to play the part of the mouse rather than the cat ready to pounce. 

After getting up and dusting himself off he slowly walked away. He knew that he could get his emotions out in a forest behind his house when he needed too.

It was the only place he felt safe, after all who was going to judge him? The animals that don't even know how to communicate to him? He laughed to himself as he made his way to the forest. 

Once he got there he realized that his want to scream had faded, so he just started wandering around. He sees a small opening in the trees a little while away and starts to run toward it.

As he runs he can only hear the break of a small branch under his feet and the whistling of a gentle gust of wind. As he finds his way through the forest, a large smile creeps up on his face and he stops dead in his tracks.

He looks around seeing a field of what he assumes to be brightly colored flowers. But all he knows is that there are large patches of blue and what could be purple flowers for all the others look dull and colorless.

He can smell the aroma of the flowers and relaxes instantly for he knows he is now safe. There is no need for him to rush and move with a purpose for he was in a place where he could move as the time followed him, not the other way around.

Slowly, he starts making his way to one of the closest patches of blue flowers and starts to see the outline of something, or rather someone.

They were laying down on their side in the flowers shaking as though they are crying. This makes him confused, for why would someone be crying in a place of such beauty. As he cautiously approaches the -what he can now tell is- another young boy. The same age if not a little younger. 

His hair was a thick dirty blond and his skin quite tan. From the look of his clothes he seemed to be someone of high importance. But before he could say anything about it, the boy looks around and sees George looking right at him with a slightly scared look on his elegant face. 

"Hey, I don't mean to startle you, but are you okay? I can't help but to have noticed that you seem to have been out here crying for a while," George asks very cautiously.

"I'm fine," the blond boy says a little too quickly sitting up and facing George, "why- how did you get here?" he asks as though it is almost impossible to have reached this place.

"Through the trees over there," George points behind himself, "My cottage is right on the other side of the trees. I went into that forest a lot to get out my anger but kept walking this time. It really helps sometimes," he adds quickly as if he has to explain his reasoning.

"Oh, alright," he states wiping his tears trying to seem as though he wasn't crying at all, "You can call me Dream by the way."

"Well, hello Dream. You can call me George," the brunet says trying to seem more friendly than anything else. "What are you doing out here? I don't recognize you from the village."