Dreaming Awake

by EF Joyce

  "Oh darling, what a mess you've made of yourself," Rozlyn heard a distant voice, someone tugging on her robe, helping her upright. Faifax? Oh yeah, she was in his apartment. He pulled off the robe, why? Oh, crusted vomit all over, great she must have done that in her sleep. Too bad she hadn't choked on it. Shockingly without rebuke, he led her into the bathroom, turned on the shower and helped her in. "Get cleaned up, and then we need to talk. Ok? I'll order breakfast."

  Fantastic. Talking was exactly what she didn't need. You're hurting yourself, Rozlyn. You're hurting me. Look at what you're doing. You're throwing your whole life away, and for what? You need to be strong, to get over it. Just get over it, get over it! She couldn't, she wouldn't, she was weak and she just wanted all of it to end, everything.

  The princess showered and dressed in a plain shirt and pants that Faifax had left out for her like a helpless child, and then shuffled into the dining room to hear her lecture; empty accusing and reassuring words that wouldn't mean anything. He waited until she'd finished eating, watching her with his tired blue eyes, the morning sun shining down from the sky roof, reflecting blankly off her silverware.

  His apartment was smaller than hers with the living space, kitchenette and dining table all spread out in one open space, only the bed and bath separated by a door. Faifax's style was unsurprisingly minimalist – his furniture all metal and angles with virtually no decor to speak of. Rozlyn shoved eggs into her mouth followed by toast and chewed mechanically, just wanting the talk to be over with. She gulped down the last of her coffee and stared at him expectantly, still in his military uniform, stained with dirt and...was that blood?

  Go ahead. Tell me to suck it up. I'm waiting.

  "What you're going through is not easy to face. It won't be any easier tomorrow, a year from now, or even twenty. This will haunt you for the rest of your life. It will eat away at you, day after day," he paused, sighing, not meeting her eyes, deciding whether or not to tell her something.

  "I thought you were going to say move on, Rozlyn," she prompted, surprised at his words.

  "You can't ever move on. Not from this. But you can choose to take it and use it to inspire change. You're ashamed of your family, of what they've done, what they stand for. You hate that Arcadia sees you as one of them. You can't change the past, but you can change the future. Use your hatred and your fear and your shame as fuel to make the world different – a place where you will never be part of something like this again."

  "How?" she whispered. He made it sound so easy. As if powerless Rozlyn could inspire change. She'd only just found out how bad things really were, and now he expected her to make them better?

  "I'm going to tell you something I keep to myself, buried in my past. I'm going to trust you with this so that you understand that I do understand. I am not from Arcadia. I was born in the Old World."

  "What?!" she exclaimed. No, that couldn't be. He'd been working for her parents her whole life. He was the commander of the army. The royals hated Old Worlders. They would never let one in, let them command.

  "I was in The Guard, good with weapons and strategy, the best fighter in my brigade. They recruited me for my skills in weaponry as well as my insider knowledge. I'm not the only one, you know. Adrian was recruited for his magic, along with most the magic users in the army. I'm so grateful to Arcadia and your parents for giving me this second chance. I wanted to blot out my roots, my history, to never speak of it again. I'm telling you because I love you and I trust you. Understand?" she nodded numbly.

  "I've spent the last twenty years studying Arcadian trade and labor, examining exactly how we use the Old Worlders so I will know how to change it. I've been studying Yerazi for the last decade. It's a brutal, ugly and damn near impossible language, but I will need to know it when I command my soldiers to fight them.

  "I've been working toward this moment for more than half my life. Do you want to know why? It's not because I just have a good heart or want to be a hero. It's because I lost something, and I suffered like you are right now, and I knew I wanted to use that pain to ensure it wouldn't happen to anyone else again. I have a son, Rozlyn. When Arcadia took me, they would not allow him to come with. He was so little, only three-years-old," he said, his voice wavering, He glanced down at the floor, blinking back tears. Faifax had a son? And he was from the Old World? It was as if she didn't know him at all – but that was why he told her all this, wasn't it? So she would know him better, so they could be closer.

  "I left him with my friend and his wife, but I was not allowed to contact them. I have no idea if he's still living, what he's doing, if he's alright. Every time I dropped bombs or shot down rioters I would think to myself, what if he's down there right now? Did I just kill my son? This society we live in, it's not right. The pain I carry with me reminds me, pushes me, every single day to create change. Yours can do the same. You can do this, Roz. I know you and you are strong."

  Rozlyn was crying without realizing it; seeing Faifax like this, so vulnerable and open, bearing his soul to her. She scooted off the high wooden dining chair and went to him, collapsing into his embrace.

  "We can do it together," she whispered against his wet cheek. "I'll try my best to be strong," she promised. Rozlyn knew it wouldn't be easy; she was broken, devastated and betrayed in almost every way. Her first step would be to stop drinking so much, and her second to try and find a way to forgive her family. If not forgive them then at least be able to live with them. Only after those things were accomplished could she even begin thinking about starting a movement and inciting change.

  "Together we'll change the world," he said, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I have to admit, I didn't just tell you all those things about me to make you feel better, though I'm glad it helped. Things have never been worse with Arcadia and the rebellion, all the things I kept waiting to go away, but I'm sick of waiting," he paused, digging in his coat pocket for something. "Rozlyn, will you be my wife?"

  Faifax opened his hand, revealing a beautiful silver ring set with a large violet stone that flashed like fire at different angles. She had never seen anything like it, definitely nothing made by the designers in Arcadia.

  "Holy Old World!" she said, staring down at the ring, at his expectant face, tired and laced with stubble, his deep blue eyes waiting for her response. He'd stood by her through the hardest times in her life, never chastised her for her other boyfriends or her crazy lifestyle and always gave her a reason to keep pressing on. Even now in the midst of a war he was pulling her out of the darkness. She loved this man, more than anything else.

  "Yes, yes, of course I will!" she gasped, embracing him again. "Where did you get this ring?" she asked, admiring its shine on her finger.

  "In Dalga on my last trade venture...maybe six months ago," he said.

  "Six months ago?!" she said.

  "Like I said, I'd been waiting for the right time, but it never came and I gave up waiting. Unless something changes fast, this rebellion is in it for the long haul."

  "What happened to that kid who knew where the base was?" she asked, suddenly remembering where he'd been all night, while she was unconscious and puking. Nice. Are you sure you want to marry me, Faifax? He frowned, obviously annoyed.

  "He was a pawn being used unknowingly by the rebellion. He led us straight into a trap and half Kaelor's elite squad was lost."

  "Lost as in dead?" she asked.

  "Unfortunately. Your parents are furious with me for not waiting, but I didn't dare. If he'd truly gotten away from the rebellion, we needed to act fast before they figured it out and fled. A risk I wasn't willing to take, and I definitely paid for my actions," he paused, sighing. "Speaking of consequences, your parents want to speak with you," he said.

  "Did they talk to you? Do they know about us?" she paused letting the thought hang in the air. Do they know I've been staying here? Do they know what you just asked me?

  "No, we will tell them later, together. They think you're at Fallon's place, but the
y're pissed about that video. Your father released a statement that you've suffered a mental breakdown and after that video Roz..."

  "I know," she said. "I was drunk and mad. I still am. Well, not the drunk part. I don't think," she offered him a small smile and he returned it.

  "You can't make enemies out of your family. It's fine to be mad, but if you push too hard they will shut you down. Your father is not a man to take lightly. You know that."

  "Right. Well, better get it over with."

  II

  The royal apartments were the most spacious in all of Arcadia – at least three times the size of Rozlyn's. The princess sat stiffly in one of the three Tenero sofas, upholstered in soft, sand-colored fabric. All three faced a Smart Wall, which currently depicted repeating images of the night sky. Sapphire, her parents' servant, had let her in and told her to wait before disappearing into another room, most likely her attached quarters. Rozlyn's apartment also had connected servant's rooms, but she'd never hired anyone, hating the idea of a stranger living so close to her private life. An old woman, Sapphire had served her family since before Rozlyn was born. Kaelor and Inari had even hired her daughters as their own servants.

  Sapphire reappeared with a silver Monete tray of orange arancias a light blend of ice, fresh oranges and brandy, garnished with a sugar rim and an orange slice. Rozlyn took one gratefully, though she wasn't surprised that the alcohol content had been generously watered down. Of course. Another hour passed before the king and queen returned to their apartment to address her, even though Sapphire had notified them immediately on their comms.

  They entered, her father dressed in a neat gray suit and her mother in a matching silk dress, elegant and simple, her blond hair piled artfully on her head. Rozlyn glanced at the orange on her glass and her mother's dress. Silk and oranges, imports from Dalga. If they could buy goods, could they not buy land for the Old Worlders? Or had her parents simply not allowed it?

  "So, you've decided to make an appearance at last," her father said, both of them sitting in winged chairs opposite her. She quickly set down the glass, feeling suddenly awkward and afraid. "Before you say a word, let me make myself perfectly clear," he said, green eyes burning. Her mother kept her eyes locked on the king, not daring to even glance at her shamed daughter.

  "I don't know what you were thinking, filming that video, handing out royal secrets. Thanks to your poor state during that recording, I was able to revoke it quite easily. But if you dare to tell our citizens anything of the like ever again, I will lock you up in your chambers and throw away the key, even if you are my daughter. Do you understand me? Arcadia's success is dependent on the ignorance of its citizens. That world out there is a mess, plagued by war, disease, famine, natural disasters and dangerous, uncontrolled magic.The nobility live in palaces and gorge themselves on feasts while the rest waste away in mud huts, freezing and starving until they finally die.

  "Arcadians are equals. Perhaps we have larger apartments, but every citizen has a clean residence, access to as much food and water as they need, along with other pleasures and past times that are not just limited to the rich. This is a perfect world, Rozlyn. What are you trying to accomplish by tearing it down?" he seemed to be genuinely asking her, though it was probably just a ploy to get her to say something stupid that would make him look blameless. He always did that – turned words around on people and trapped them.

  "I'm not trying to tear it down," she said, her voice a whine. She had meant to be strong, firm, immovable, but now she felt on the verge of tears. "Maybe the rest of the world is fucked up, but it has to be better than what's below us. The Old World is part of us, our responsibility. We can't let them keep going like they are."

  "The Old World is not part of us," he said. "Before the Fall, when this was Arzu, our ancestors knew the end was coming. Arzu had been waging war with a sorceress who was too strong to fight against, even with our weapons. Knowing this sorceress had the power to level Arzu, and she did, but preparing for that possibility, they pooled all their resources and built Arcadia under the guidance of our founder, Algore Evershed. All of our citizens are descendants of those great builders and planners. The people below are descended from a bunch of panicked Arzuans who hid in that underground bunker just before The Fall.

  "They weren't meant to survive, but our great ancestors who created this paradise took responsibility for them once they discovered they were alive. Our society has rules, Rozlyn. A controlled population, a regulated resource system that allows us to continue on as we always have. The Old Worlders had no system, no government, no way to gain resources. They were dying, fast, and they begged us to take over control. This was five-hundred years ago.

  "So you see, every scrap we give them is charity. Their very continued existence is proof of our generosity. To finish off this little speech, dear daughter, what you must understand is that I do not care what you think. About our political system, about the Old World, about anything, really. We groomed Inari and Kaelor for the roles they have, we forced those responsibilities on them. Our third child we wanted to be free to choose. We forced nothing on you, prepared you for nothing, allowed you to walk your own path.

  "Had you showed interest in politics or the military I would have gladly hired you a tutor and informed you of our agendas, but you never did. You had a choice and this is the life you chose. You've really fucked things up, but you're still my daughter," Rozlyn stared him, shocked. She'd never heard him swear before. "This is your last chance. Go and live your life, however you want. But you touch any of this again, if you so much as breathe a word to anyone about the rebellion, the outside world, this family, politics, any of it and I will have you removed. Am. I. Clear?"

  "Yes," she replied in a small voice, remembering what Faifax had said about not taking her father lightly. So now what? She would live a quiet life with Faifax as they secretly plotted to free all the Old Worlders? "Am I free to go?" she asked, almost afraid to breathe without permission.

  "You are dismissed," the king said just as the door chimed. "That must be Hale," he said, rising from his chair as Sapphire opened the door, letting Faifax in. He'd cleaned up since Rozlyn last saw him, his dark hair washed and shiny and his uniform crisp and spotless, the red ribboned star that labeled his position hanging neatly from his left breast pocket. "Commander, have a seat. We have much to hash out regarding last night's incident."

  "I have already given my full report, your Majesty," he answered, his eyes quickly flickering to Rozlyn, who was still hovering by the sofa.

  "What are you still doing here?" the king snapped. "Remember what I told you. Go on now," he prompted, his eyes brokering no argument.

  "Wait, your Majesty," Faifax said, motioning for her to come to him. "There is one issue I would like to bring to light before Rozlyn leaves. She and I are to be married." Well, there it was. He'd dropped it on her father without introduction, denying him the luxury of easing into such news.

  "I'm not amused," the king replied, his face stone.

  "I'm not joking," Faifax answered, meeting the king's steel gaze unflinchingly.

  "What is this, Commander? You're the best man in my military. I pulled you out of that hell below and you rose through the ranks like a star. You have a sterling reputation – no drinking, no clubs, no strippers, no floozy affairs – actually no girlfriends at all if I remember correctly, and now this? She's not a charity case. You can't fix her, you can't save her, and you certainly won't get into my good graces by trying. So why don't we all just drop this charade, huh?" his pale cheeks were turning red, his eyes glowing with fury.

  "We've been together for two years now. I love her and I'm marrying her." His face betrayed no emotion but she swore a flicker of fear flashed in his dark blue eyes.

  "Well. Well. What do you have to say, daughter of mine?" he huffed, red-faced and furious, holding it back with the whole force of his will. Rozlyn swallowed, terrified. She'd never seen her father this angry. "Does your betrothed here k
now about all those losers you jump into bed with every weekend? Well?"

  "They were cover, so you wouldn't catch us," she said, nearly whispering. Half a lie and half the truth. Falling in love with Faifax had been a slow thing, creeping up on her before she'd realized it. Until recently when she'd understood just how she felt, she'd thought of him as one of the sexy men in life, just another fun weekend. Unlike the others, she'd never tired of him and always wanted more.

  "Two years? Two years?!" he roared. Rozlyn's mother flinched in the background, trepidation naked on her face.

  Stand up for me, mom! Do something once in your life! Stop living in dad's shadow! She wanted to scream it, her coward mother, just letting the king roll over her all the time. Pointless. Her mother would quiver in the shadows and observe whatever terrible fate her father doled out without uttering a word of protest.

  "Two years you've been fucking my daughter? This pathetic, waste of royal blood?" he yelled. He stomped out of the room, leaving Rozlyn and Faifax to exchange a puzzled, uncertain glance before returning with a kitchen knife gleaming in his hand. The king grabbed Faifax roughly by the collar, pointing the knife upward at his chin.

  "Stop!" Rozlyn shrieked, throwing herself at her father. He shoved her away, the back of her knees hitting the sofa.

  "You've disappointed me," the king said, an inch from Faifax's face. "You've shown poor judgment. I cannot allow a man of such base principles to lead my men, my army." Her father released Faifax's collar and cleanly sliced the ribbon badge from his front pocket with the knife. "You are hereby removed from the Arcadian Army and relieved of all associated ranks and titles," his eyes flickered to Rozlyn, reflecting only hatred. "Now take your garbage and get out.”