eswareinmal | Da ward mein Auge wach

Characters: Rue and YOU
Open? YES
Where: The Receiving Room thingy
When: idk do fairytales have mondays
Warnings: Rue is a warning

Rue had never known such happiness. All around her, people were celebrating their arrival, cheering for their returned prince and his new princess. There were feasts, and dances, and a procession through the city that culminated in their wedding in a chapel on the outskirts. There was not a person in the crowd that did not smile at seeing her face, and not a moment she did not feel like smiling herself.

Even after the feasts and fanfare was over, it was difficult for her to slip away with her prince, to kiss him softly as she led him down the corridors to the room she instinctively knew was theirs. It was those small moments she rejoiced in the most, those slight movements of his fingers as he gripped her hips, ever graceful even in that, their final dance before they both collapsed in blissful sleep.

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She dreamed of a lovely wood, open and clear, bathed in warm, gentle light. All around her, flowers of all kinds bloomed, moving in the wind as she passed, as if bowing. Songbirds hailed her arrival, and smaller creatures scampered about her feet, leading her deeper and deeper into the wood. As she went on, it grew darker, the flowers becoming unfamiliar as the birdsong grew stranger. Once, she thought she heard the cry of a raven, and turned around only to find that her path was obscured by an overgrowth of thick thorny vines. With no choice but to move forward, she continued into the woods, well aware of the encroaching thorns behind her.

After what seemed like an eternity of walking, she came to a dead end, feeling her stomach drop as she recognized the sensation of thorns scraping against her skin, almost reaching for her.

It was then that she saw it. A small, leatherbound book lying at her feet, covered in thin vines. There was a figure on the cover, with dark hair and pale skin, also surrounded by thorns, she realized. And with the same red eyes. Without thinking, she picked it up, clutching it even as the vines began snaking around her arms and legs....

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Rue awoke very suddenly, heart thundering in her chest as she slowly sat up. Mytho was nowhere to be seen, nor was there any sign that he had ever been there. The blankets were folded down, and, she realized, she was lying on top of them, not under. Though it was like the bed she'd fallen asleep, in, it was actually a little too ornate, not at all suited to her prince's tastes, she thought. And somehow she was wearing her wedding dress, though she remembered very well when she had taken it off--

"Good morning, Princess Rue."

She turned. Seated next to her bed was an old man, whom she was certain she had never seen in her life.

"Now I'm sure you have a few questions for me..."

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He'd returned to the castle the night before to find Valiant pacing in the courtyard, thankfully not nearly as irritated as he ought to be at being left behind in Fakir's rush to get the 'dream' over with. Not long after that he had enjoyed his first full night of sleep in weeks in the little bedroom that had apparently been set aside for transient champions like himself.

The next morning, he passed the same chamber he'd first arrived in and been stopped in his tracks by the sound of a familiar name. He peered inside, half paranoid and half hopeful.

"Rue?"

Rue had listened to the old man's explanation quite patiently, she thought, though it was difficult to disguise her irritation at being kidnapped for some strange quest she wanted no part in. When he was finished with what seemed to be a well-practiced speech, he stood up, smiling knowingly as he looked at a figure at the door.

"Fakir?"

Fakir repressed the urge to sigh in exasperation, and Valiant hunkered down behind him. Of all the people...

"I hadn't expected to find you here."

"I can't say I expected you either," Rue said, crossing her legs. "If they were wanting a champion you would think that Mytho would be suited to their needs."

"Maybe they missed both times," Fakir muttered. He couldn't deny that she had a point. "They certainly didn't dress you for the job."

"It's my wedding dress," she said, not a small amount of pride in her voice. "I didn't fall asleep in it, but it's not the strangest thing for me to be wearing."

"Ah..." Fakir murmured, unable to disguise the small, private ache that statement brought him. Not the same Rue, then. This was the one that Mytho had longed for, and he wasn't here to have her. Of course. "Well. You can't sit in bed all day. I'm sure the old man who watches you sleep has other things to do."

Rue narrowed her eyes. He was as annoying as ever. With a curt nod to the old man, she stood up and made her way toward the door, brushing past Fakir with a look that suggest he follow.

"Don't act like you're in any position to lead me around," Fakir said, following in spite of that. "You're more lost than I am here."

"How long have you been here?" Rue asked, trying to look like she knew where she was going. "Tell me everything you know about this place."

Well, that gave Fakir pause for thought. The most succinct answer, of course, was 'very little.' He searched for something more intelligent to say as he wandered back out into the courtyard, Valiant trailing merrily behind.

"Well, I don't think we can leave until we've finished what they need us for," he said. "As for what that is, it seems best to think of this place as a fairy tale."

"A fairy tale?" Rue asked with uncertainty, sitting down to rest her feet. Satin toeshoes weren't made for outdoor wear. "Like Goldkrone?"

"Yes, I suppose," Fakir said. He leaned on a wall nearby to wait for her to quit dawdling. "It does remind me of home. It's a troubled place, from what I've heard."

"Troubled how?"

She imagined a monster like the Raven, haunting the story's corners. She would have no part of that, she thought.

Fakir shrugged. "What I've gathered is that a plague of giant thorns is covering the country. Nobody can tell me why, though, which is... less than helpful."

"Thorns..."

She recalled her dream, the suffocation felt as the thorns crept up on her.

"It's a metaphor for something, I'm sure."

Fakir cast a sidelong glance at her. "Not everything is a metaphor, you know," he said. "Some things are just things."

"Well, we're in a story, aren't we?" Rue said, staring back at him. "So it's likely to be a metaphor."

Fakir scoffed and looked away. It was a nice evening, all things considered.

"It's like a story," he said. "Besides, even in stories not everything has some hidden meaning to be decoded."

"I suppose you're right," she said, stretching her legs as she stood up again. "There was obviously no rhyme or reason for bringing us here."

Da ward mein Auge wach

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