Once Upon a Dream

by Megan Derr

  But gentle hands wiped the tears away, and Prince Ivan looked at last upon the soldier Tarabanov, who was possessed of dark hair and kind eyes, and the weathered body of a hardened soldier. "Thank you, Vanya," Tarabanov said, smiling softly. He vowed his own love for Prince Ivan and instead of returning the heart Prince Ivan had entrusted to his care, Tarabanov gave Prince Ivan his own.

  And the truth was made known to all of Tsarina Elena's treachery, and Tsar Grey had her executed immediately. He married his own sweet Princess Vassilissa, and declared Prince Ivan was his most dearly loved brother, and asked him to spend the rest of his days with them, to which Prince Ivan happily assented.

  They all lived together in that palace, the noble Grey and brave Vassilissa, faithful Tarabanov and steadfast Prince Ivan.

  *~*~*

  Silence lingered as Ivan finished his tale, until it was finally broken impatiently by the groom. "That is not a version I have ever heard. He is called Ivan the Heartless; why would they call him that if he is not so cold and ruthless after all? "

  Ivan's bodyguard spoke for the first time. "Because people remember violence and pain and fear far more than they remember happiness. People recall a man who traveled the world seeking only magic, who left his family behind without hesitation. People recall the way Prince Ivan deceived the Tsarina, and killed three creatures, and was unmoved when his bride was hanged. They do not remember what she did in the deep of a forest, or that his killing of three beasts saved three people. Strength is not killing those you hate, it is killing those you love and having faith it is the right thing to do. People often see kindness and mistake it for cruelty, and never realize that the cruelty they perceived was actually a kindness."

  "For example," Ivan said. "I see at this table much levity, much joy, and a great show of love between bride and groom. But there is too much of it, and all of it too perfect, to be genuine. Real love is not so perfect or easy, and real family bickers as often as it smiles."

  The groom scowled, and his friends stiffened. The bride went pale and still. "What are you trying to say?" the groom demanded. "That I don't love my wife?"

  "I am certain you love the idea of devouring her flesh," Ivan replied. "I've heard of you in whispers and snatches of conversation, the man they call Bluebeard who feasts upon human flesh." The man and his companions all rose, reaching for their swords, but before they could attack Ivan spoke three words of powerful magic, freezing everyone at the table save himself and his bodyguard. He motioned quietly, and his bodyguard rose and dragged the groom from the inn, outside into the dark of night.

  Ivan assisted him and eventually all the men were outside, where Ivan and his bodyguard killed them quickly and left the bodies in the wood for the animals to feast upon.

  They returned to the inn, where Ivan freed the others. The bride fell into his arms weeping. "Thank you, my lord. I don't know how you knew—he killed my sister and I came to find her and he trapped me—oh, thank you!" She kissed his cheeks, and embraced him, tears streaming down her cheek.

  Ivan kissed her cheek, then gently gave her into her mother's care. "I know better than most the look and feel of pretending to love someone you despise and who only means you harm. I am happy we chanced upon here and could help. I hope the gods favor you with a peaceful life from here on."

  By the front door, his bodyguard called out, "The rain has stopped, Vanya. We should be going."

  "I am coming, Tarabanov," Ivan said, and offered a parting smile, ignoring the gasps and looks the people gave them. Drawing up his deep hood, he followed Tabaranov back out into the night, bound for home.

  Blood in the Water

  Seree sat up with a groan and nearly fell right back down. Every last part of him hurt. He always thought he remembered the pain involved with turning human, with being human—until he had to do it again, and he screamed in agony until his throat was left raw and his eyes burned.

  The surf washed over him, taking away most of the blood left over from the transformation. He shivered, already cold in his human skin, disliking its vulnerability to the waters that were his home. Taking a deep breath, bracing himself, he slowly stood up on trembling legs. When he was certain his legs would hold, he waded into the water to wash off the worst of the sand and the remaining blood and residue of the transformation.

  He dove under the water and came back up, raking his fingers through his hair to get the sopping mess out of his face. Standing there, letting the tide wash over him, toes sunk into the sand, he stared out at the ocean he had to leave behind for a time. He'd only been human a matter of minutes, but his body ached to resume its natural form. Every movement hurt, and would continue to do so, until he resumed his true form.

  His fingers lightly stroked over the scars on his cheek, harsh slashes put there by a razor dagger to mark him as a warrior. He was his father's eldest child of fourteen, and he was the only one with the fortitude to turn human whenever it was necessary. He was also good at being human, whereas the others bungled more often than not. Seree did not see what was so difficult, but then, he could not understand why his sisters could not stay out of trouble to begin with, either.

  Savior from the Deep protect him from the idiocy of his siblings, especially his youngest sister, Lana. Why anyone left that child alone he would never understand. If he had his way, he would order her locked up in the darkest cell in the palace until she was capable of acting like an adult.

  Not that his other sisters were much better, stealing one of his special knives and giving it to her to kill the prince. Clearly they all thought it was still some sort of story or game and did not appreciate the price they would be paying in taking a life—though he doubted any of them could go through with it anyway.

  You don't understand. She loves him, and he broke her heart by not loving her back. Now she's trapped. What else were we to do?

  Seree sneered just thinking about the entire debacle of a conversation. No one fell in love on a moment, and no one of the Deep fell in love with a human, except in overblown stories.

  Forcing himself to turn away from the sea, he waded back to shore, tracing the scars on his cheeks one last time: two sharp slashes on each side starting slightly below the eye and cutting all the way across his cheeks in a diagonal slash. Marks of honor he had worked hard to earn. All so he could be reduced to bothersome tasks like getting his errant baby sister out of trouble. Again. Honestly, how difficult could it be for her to stay out of trouble for one day?

  Calling upon the magic bestowed with his marks, he dressed himself in human garments: dark brown breeches and high boots, a white shirt, and a dark, sea-green jacket. The clothes of a modest gentleman—respectable, but ultimately forgettable. He lightly touched the cluster of pearls nestled in the folds of silk at his throat, a habit of old from days when human clothes had been a strange, awkward thing.

  Next, he retrieved his knives from where he had thrown them in the sand while he went through the agony of transformation. Eight sheaths, the last empty, arranged in a holster that strapped into place so the knives lay neatly across his shoulder blades within easy reach.

  Drawing a deep breath, he let it out slowly and finally left behind the relative safety of the beach.

  Noise. It was one of the most difficult things to become accustomed to. Sound worked differently in the Deep, and the chaos of it on land left his head throbbing from over-stimulation. Combined with the way his body ached constantly, unhappy to be stuck in a foreign shape, it was a mystery to him why so many of his kin wanted to be human.

  If his information was correct, his sister was in the palace. He still was not certain if she had fallen in love with a prince on purpose, or if she had learned that happy fact later. Seree ignored his surroundings as best he was able, lingering only long enough to figure out where to find the palace.

  Nearly two hours later he did, finally, manage to reach the palace. It was remarkably plain for a palace. He had expected something towering and lavish, made of white,
shining stone and decorated with colored glass, banners, flags … Wasn't that the point of castles, to be over the top and ridiculous?

  But the building before him was made of wood and stone identical to that which built the town he'd left behind. Nothing more than climbing roses covered much of the walls in a rainbow of red, pink, orange, white, and yellow blossoms. It was three stories high and as long and wide as perhaps four of the townhouses he'd passed.

  Seree was pretty certain fifty of it could have fit in the other palaces he had visited.

  Climbing the steps up to it, he sketched a half-bow to the two guards at the entrance. "I beg your pardon," he said, speaking slowly and precisely, his tongue just not used to human languages after he had been in the Deep for so many decades. "I am here to visit Lady Lana. Please inform her that her brother has arrived to take her home."

  Their eyes widened as they looked at him, taking in his scars. "I will let her know you are here, my lord." One of the guards slipped inside the palace, and Seree drew back enough the other guard relaxed slightly. He had no desire to threaten anyone—yet.

  After a couple of minutes, the first guard reappeared and gestured for him to come. "She will see you at once, my lord."

  Yes, she would, or she would be in for a great deal worse than a lecture. Seree followed the guard down a hallway decorated with nothing more than flowers, shells, and a smattering of paintings. All in all, the palace had the feel of an oversized beach cottage.

  The guard led him into a small room filled with sunshine and furniture enough for a small group of people. Lana rose from the sofa as the guard left, the door clicking shut behind him. "Seree!" she said and then burst into tears and covered her face.

  Seree stifled a sigh, dreading the childish apologies and pleas that would follow because his sisters were always very sorry for the way their plans went wrong, but never really sorry they'd done it, and he was tired of the excuses. Did they never think?

  He strode to the sofa and first scooped up the black-bladed knife lying on the couch, wanting to shake her just for being that careless. He slid it into its sheath beneath his jacket to join its brothers and sisters, then finally turned to Lana and pulled her into a hug. "I'm here. I'll fix everything, so stop crying Lana."

  "You don't understand," Lana said softly, and the tone was so lacking in her usual whining and pleading that it stopped him short. She looked up at him, eyes wet, and he realized for the first time that her crying was quite different than usual. Quieter, sadder, less like a girl upset she'd been caught. "I messed up," she said, drawing back, hands twining together in front of her and tangling in the fine linen of her gown. "I don't love him quite the way I thought I did, and he will never love me, and now because I did not listen one of us… one of us… I do not want to kill him, but I do not want to die."

  Seree gently took her hands, squeezing them in his own. "So you realize all that you've done wrong, Lana?"

  She looked up, fresh tears falling, but met his gaze unflinching. "Yes, Seree. I am sorry."

  He kissed her forehead. "I'll take care of it—don't I always? But it is long past time you went home."

  Her brow furrowed. "But I can't, that's why—"

  "I said I'd take care of it," he said, actually managing a faint smile. "I can't break the sea witch's spell, but I have a plan. First, we need to arrange for your abrupt need to go home. What do you do here in the palace all day?"

  Lana smiled crookedly. "I sing, of course. They think I washed up in a shipwreck and that I was running away from home. My family is very strict, you see, and I'm terrified they'll never forgive me my brash behavior."

  He rapped her lightly on the forehead with his knuckle. "Clever. But I'm afraid your family has hunted you down and you must be going home. Father is quite distraught."

  "I know," Lana said softly, her momentary levity falling away. "I'm sorry."

  Kissing her forehead again, he then hugged her and said, "At least you've learned something, huh, jellyfish?"

  She sniffled. "What are you going to do?"

  "Get you home, first. Then I will deal with the sea witch's spell."

  "You can fix it?" she asked, looking up at him the way she had when she was little, like she thought he was the most amazing person in the ocean. He'd hated it when she'd started to regard him the same as everyone else: warily, never trusting his knives and magic, occasionally angry and resentful. The same way they had looked at his mother before she'd fallen ill and died. The way they never looked at his stepmothers and his half-siblings, though he never considered them merely half.

  He mustered a smile. "Of course I can fix one stupid spell. I can fix anything."

  She laughed, relieved and delighted. "She said he must fall in love with me if I wanted to stay on land forever, and that if I failed to do so in three months, then I must kill him if I wanted to live and return to the sea. I knew you'd be able to outsmart her!"

  The smile was harder to maintain, but as exasperating as she could be, he would do anything to keep her looking at him as if he was a wonderful big brother and not merely a frightening half-brother born from the sea witch's daughter. "I'm smarter than everyone, haven't you learned that yet? Now, give me your hand—the one she cut."

  Lana held out her left hand, displaying the long, thin scar that cut diagonally across it starting just below her first finger. Seree reached beneath his jacket and pulled out a knife with a deep blue blade. Cupping her hand in his, ignoring the way she shivered slightly, he slit the scar open anew. As the blood pooled in her palm, he slit his own left hand, riddled with more scars than he could count, and joined their bloody palms.

  He could feel the spell—the curse—placed on her, like swimming into a patch of freezing water in a warm current or into a dark cave only to find too late that someone within had rotted to pieces. Repressing a shudder so as not to alarm her, he chanted a spell of exchange, still clutching the blue-bladed knife.

  When it was done, the curse struck him like a blow, leaving him momentarily breathless and weak. The knife slipped from his as he sank onto the sofa and curled in on himself as the poisonous magic wove its way through him.

  "Are you okay?" Lana asked tearfully, petting him cautiously, fluttering about.

  "Fine," Seree said. "Just a little out of breath; I haven't taken a curse in a long time."

  She sniffled and hugged him, then picked up his knife with finger and thumb and handed it back. "I don't understand how you can use these awful things. The black one felt all… crawly, in my hands. Like it wanted to get away or something."

  "It's the Blade of Sacrifice," Seree said. "It wants life blood. You're lucky that it did not get the better of you and take what it wanted."

  "It—it can do that?" Lana paled.

  Seree nodded. "The Blades of the Deep have a will of their own. They are not mere knives. Pay more attention to your lessons, Lana. You should have already known that."

  He expected her to make a face or roll her eyes, but she only nodded. "I'll listen from now on. I'm rather tired of adventures right now."

  "Good," he said and stood up. "Let us get you back to the—" He broke off as the door opened and someone stepped inside.

  "Lana! They told me a strange man had come to see you, and I had to come at once to make certain…" He trailed off, eyes going wide when he saw Seree.

  Whoever he was, he was beautiful for a human. Small and finely built, skin the color of wet sand with a touch of sun-gold, dark gold hair, and eyes the blue of the deepest parts of the sea. He wore sand-colored breeches and a white linen shirt and nothing else. Seree found it hard to look away.

  "Highness," Lana said, slipping away from Seree to greet the young man. Highness. This was the prince? He was as incongruous as his palace. "I did not mean to disturb you, Highness. I am quite well. This is my eldest brother, Lord Seree Knarian. Seree, this is Prince Aimé LeVaughn."

  Seree bowed. "An honor to make your acquaintance, Your Highness."

  To his asto
nishment, Aimé flushed. "Uh—the honor is mine, my lord. Lady Lana always spoke well of you when she said very little at all about the rest of her family. I am glad you have come to see her." Sadness flickered across his face. "Oh, I suppose this means you are going home?"

  "I must, Your Highness, I am sorry. Apparently my family is more distraught than I believed about my absence."

  Another sad look, tinged with wistfulness, flickered across Aimé's face. "Then certainly you should go, Lana. One should always take hold of a chance to be with family." He kissed her cheek and hugged her tightly. "I am glad you washed up on my beach, Lana. You've been like a sister to me. If ever you can visit, please do. I hope you are happy, wherever you go, whatever you do."

  Lana's eyes misted with tears. "Thank you, Highness. I wish all the same to you. If ever I can visit, you will get a letter informing you of such immediately." She kissed his cheek, then slipped back to Seree.

  "Have you gathered your things, Lana?"

  "I will see to it," Seree interjected. "I am seeing my sister off, but I must linger a few days to attend some business matters for my father. I'll see any belongings of hers are packed and shipped off and that I reimburse whomever I need for her care."

  Aimé shook his head. "No reimbursement required, but I do insist you stay as my guest while you are here, my lord. I could do no less for the brother of such a dear friend as Lana."

  Seree nodded. He should have been pleased everything was proceeding so smoothly. Until the prince had walked into the room, he would have been. Annoyed with himself, Seree bowed and said, "You're too kind, Highness. I can only accept such a gracious offer, thank you."

  "It's my pleasure," Aimé said with a smile, cheeks flushing again before he looked away. "I will go and see that a room is readied and, um, attempt to make myself respectable."