[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Dark clouds loomed over the countryside. Green fields changed shades with the rolling clouds or bright sunlight. Morning mist still hung in the air – dewdrops still clung to their blades of grass. She felt the fresh, crisp air hit her face and whip unmercifully at her tightly wound little braids. Gjeelea’s eyes flashed as she ran through the fields, with the colors of the sky and of the ground damp and dreary. The princess had never felt such lush, green grass beneath her feet; she reveled in the strange feeling and painless itch of flimsy blades beneath her toes and heels. She wondered where exactly she was, and just as the thought fluttered through her mind, a colorful little insect fluttered past her vision.

The butterfly could not have known it was doomed.

Gjeelea skipped lightly through the fields, chasing the funny little winged thing, wishing she could touch it. When the yellow butterfly decided to take the risk of resting on a nearby moss-covered rock, Gjeelea took her opportunity. She leapt after the butterfly, grasping for it as she landed hard and heavy on the rock. Gjeelea groaned for a moment, waiting for the pain of the landing to wear off. Then, smiling in a faint manner, she opened up her cupped hands just a sliver so that she could see what waited inside. She could feel the soft velvet of delicate wings; she knew she had caught the butterfly.

Her smile wilted when she saw the broken body and tattered wings of the dead – or dying – insect. She had crushed it.

“Life is a series of little deaths…out of which, princess, more life always seems to emerge,” Gjeelea heard the voice behind her, a deep, low-pitched voice that spoke to her softly, meekly…hesitantly. Turning around Gjeelea saw a young man, with thick dark hair and big, innocent eyes of the same color innocently staring up at her. The taller being looked so familiar; Gjeelea recognized the person...that much she knew. Still, she could not place a name to the calm, quiet face that stared directly back at her. His calm demeanor and quiet disposition reminded her of Siamak. Eyes of the deepest brown flicked up to meet Gjeelea’s own hazel eyes, startling Gjeelea as she grew disgusted holding the remains of the dead insect in her palm. The boy blinked suddenly. Upon reopening his eyes, the color had changed to the palest shade of blue that the princess had ever seen, not unlike the eyes of the foreign soldiers.

Before Gjeelea could think to say anything, another person joined them. This person Gjeelea recognized immediately; she knew her father’s face well enough, even in dream. In his presence, Gjeelea looked over at the young man and now knew the face for sure; it was indeed Siamak. The head of Faroz was bare, and in his hands the princess saw the familiar silver crown that had so often adorned her father’s head. Faroz moved closer to the two younger people and lifted the chaplet high up into the air. He let it hover in the air above the boy next to Gjeelea. After this pause he let the crown rest in the space above Gjeelea’s head. A confused look came over the king’s face, and Gjeelea wondered if he was deciding who deserved the crown more.

“Me," Gjeelea thought to herself, though Faroz lowered his gaze to hers like he had heard her hope. Instead of placing the crown on either child’s head, Faroz lowered his crown and dropped it into the grass. Then the king turned on his heels and walked away. Instead of dropping to get the crown, both children looked to each other, directly at each other, and smiled.

Shooting up from her bed quicker than the eye could blink, Gjeelea laboriously heaved air into her lungs and wiped the sweat from her brow. She fleetingly flicked her gaze about the room, and shook her head violently to clear her thoughts. The dream troubled her greatly, for she did not know the meaning of it. Why had Faroz not chosen? Why did he walk away? Most importantly, why did she and Siamak not fight or argue for it? She pondered these questions as she got ready for the day. Gjeelea had more to do than usual; she had two meetings to attend, one with her mother and one with her brother and the Emissary. Gjeelea also planned on making a visit to the temples.

Things had been set in motion by the arrival of the Emissary, that much was completely certain now to Gjeelea. She knew very well now that the question of who would be the heir to the throne was at the forefront of many people’s minds. She knew even better that Siamak was also aware of that fact.

Gjeelea fully realized her need to stay one step ahead of her brother.