Once Upon a Dream

Chapter Two - Phillip

"You're awfully late, Phillip," my mother said as I threw my soaking overcoat across the armchair sitting directly inside the door to my quarters.

I ignored her at first, sitting down to untie the laces of my wet boots and slip them off. "Why are you in my room, Mother?"

She came forward from the shadows and her extravagantly long, dark hair swept the ground beside her. "I came to awaken you for breakfast, but it seems I was late. An early morning or late night?"

"Which would make Her Royal Highness happy?" I asked as I lounged back in the chair, my arms crossed behind my head.

"You saw her again, didn't you?" She sat on the bed, fanning the skirts of her dress out beside her before turning her heavy gaze into mine.

I studied my fingernails, which still held the dirt of the forest underneath them. That always happened when we met there. I always returned home a little too dirty for a royal. It wasn't like that would stop me, though. None of this would stop me. From the moment I first saw Rosalie, I knew I never wanted to live without her. We were just children, but even children have a way of understanding those things. It was pure. It's still pure. But now, the feelings have shifted from the love of best friends to the love of the betrothed.

If only my father could put aside his petty differences with the Western Kingdom without my marriage to their princess. If only I was free to love Rosalie how I wanted—how I needed—to love her. Yes, there would still be complications. I don't know how to get to her when she is awake, and this losing sleep most nights has taken a toll on me. But we could figure it out. I know we could.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The fire in her eyes raged as she sat forward. "Phillip, do not lie to me. I am your mother."

"You," I said, standing and putting as much distance between us as possible, "are the Queen of the Eastern Kingdom. Your duty is not to your son but your people."

She walked forward, the hard line of her face set. Despite her small form, her large presence pinned me in place in the corner like a small child. "As should yours be. You cannot continue this. This peasant girl of yours—fictional or real—is just a distraction from your calling. Mother Fate does not make mistakes."

"If you are done, Mother, Gourmand will be here soon. I would like to get ready in peace." He may have been the only person in this Kingdom who understood what I was going through, the old scholar. He never once doubted me, not even as a small child rambling about the strange girl I met in the woods. He believed in her as much as I did and our lessons, although fruitful for my eventual reign, often turned to discussions of finding a way to get to her while she was awake.

"Gourmand is employed by the Court. He will wait if we need him to wait." But she was already moving to the door even as her air of insolence filled the room.

She gave me one last untrusting glance before she shut the door behind her and I let my shoulders relax.

Duty.

Responsibility.

Rule.

Those words, and the ideals behind them, had been forced upon me since birth. Since that old hag Mother Fate opened her mouth and cursed me to a life that wasn't my own.

Staring out of the massive windows, I took in the full view of my future kingdom. The smell of the baker's bread as he prepared his stock for the day, the children laughing as they walked to school, even the clacking sound of horseshoes against the cobblestone—it centered me. Grounded me.