[Aix wrote something] The Dreams of Midland

[Aix]

It's been a while since I've written something serious, seriously outside of roleplaying.

 

I find it can be kinda boring for an opening. I may have laid it pretty heavy on the description. I also [tried] to do something different than the usual with the narration style.

 

Ah, well. Critique would be greatly appreciated. Be as harsh as you want.

 

[spoiler=The Dreams of Midland - Chapter 1]Ciel went to bed with tears for the third time that week.

However, those quiet streams warmed his face and poured relief into his soul while the deep of night fell upon him. And that night, he dreamt.

The night let him travel years into the past, to the lighthearted days of his childhood. He found himself lying prone in the training grounds, staring up at the familiar palace keep that had stood centrepiece to the developmental stages of his life. There was a lucid clarity uncharacteristic to dreams, but every detail of the place had already been so deeply entrenched in his mind that he found it not so unusual that he would recall it so clearly. Here he had spent innumerable days drenched in sweat as he beat away at wooden dummies under the careful eye of Mensten Cray, whose old, disgruntled face hid unfound kindness and care.

But he didn't want to be reminiscing now, he thought as he stood up. As the clarity of mind befell him, so did the events of the day, and Ciel felt rage and frustration boil up within him again. He sought out the weapon racks so he could first vent his fury in swinging the sword, but they were empty without a blade to be found.

 

He fell back onto the ground, resigned and full of anger, and lay there, already exhausted in his fury.

I am Ciel daz Rosenthal, Third Prince of Midland, Duke of Scysgarde, but those titles mean nothing any more. Oh, like a prince in exile, but to disappoint, that I am not. My situation... is worse than that.

My country no longer exists.

And yet though it has long gone, it seems to have returned to torment me in my dreams. What I gaze upon is the Whitegold Palace, my august home. Last I heard it was burned down and in ruins, but here it has come back in its full, almost blinding, splendor.

That is not what I am angry about, however. It’s been five years since the fall of Midland.

And it’s time to take it back.

But I don’t think I ever will.

Seeing the palace again like it was in the old days is painful.

I wonder if this is like a final glimpse for me.

The last look I’ll ever get at Midland’s former glory.

Just looking at this place makes me understand that it was an impossible dream.

How many years did it take to build this palace alone?

Ciel suddenly got up again. His anger had cooled off as he lay on the cold ground. The thoughts of reality depressed him and he cleared them from his mind by swiftly walking around. Struck by curiosity of the place, he wondered how much he remembered of the palace in his dreams. He had spent the earlier years of his childhood here, but five years was a long time in a sixteen year life.

Slowly, he came before the main doors. The sight of the place brought a painful yearning for a paradise he could not have, but the nostalgic allure of it drew him in. With a trembling hand, he pushed open the gate.

These halls, laid with jewels and gold, they were my earliest memories. I would spend hours as a toddler wandering among them, and, when they would have time, my elder siblings would play hide and seek with me amidst the marble pillars. This place is as grand as I remember, if not grander as my child mind could not hope to take it all in. Or perhaps it is grander because I have seen what it is like outside the trappings of royalty.

I only know the grandeur of this place just fills me to the core with wonder, and fond memories.

Nostalgia is painful.

Tall halls with high ceilings of impossible engineering stretched far out to either side. In a trance-like daze, Ciel wandered through them. It could not be clear how long he wandered, for time does not flow straight in a dream, it rippled and curved until Ciel found himself staring at the back of a familiar figure before the doors to what was the throne room.

Who is that? I know him.

Noting the sound of footsteps behind him, the figure began to turn, and Ciel began to recall who had golden hair like the man before him. This man once seemed much bigger, but that was because he remembered him from when he was much smaller.

If there was anyone in the world that yet lived that I could rely on.

“Ciel,” breathed the man before him and Ciel could only stare back at his brother with everything else forgotten.

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I am Lilia daz Rosenthal, Second Princess of Midland, Duchess of Loschfel, but my former identity no longer holds relevance. Now? I’m just a peasant girl with hopes and dreams that I shall never fulfil, and childish wishes that shall never come true. I spend as much of my days living in my fantasies, and it seems I have landed in just another one of them.

But, perhaps this fantasy is the sweetest of them all.

I know where I am, I’m in the outermost gardens of Whitegold Keep. The sweet fragrance of the various flowers wafts towards me with the breeze as I watch the butterflies flutter aimless and carefree. It’s so nice I could sit here forever, but greater paradise awaits. I turn and just as I imagined, up upon a hill, silhouetted against the evening morning sun, is the palace proper.

Getting up, I start to run. I run and run, something I probably never would have done before, but over the years living outside the castle, I have built some muscle and stamina. Ha! Don’t envision me as some muscular princess, I’m still pretty slim, I just say I’ve built some muscle to sound like I’ve actually accomplished something all these years scraping to get by.

Lilia ran towards the palace like her life depended on it. The multitudinous flowers that bloomed around her would have many any other lose their breath, but Lilia, in her single-minded pursuit, ignored them. Scenic ponds and bridges stretched out around her, but she ignored them as well, her mind thinking only of her childhood home. She caught a glimpse of another figure in the garden, but Lilia barely took note of it and kept running.

Why am I running like this? I seem unable to tire. I’ll just keep running, and running on. I’ll be able to reach the palace soon.

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Lewis, Second Prince of Midland and the Duke of Carionne, stared at the young man before him. Alas, there was someone else in this hollow gilded castle, and it was none other than his little brother, seven years his junior. But, it took Lewis a moment to recognize him. He had changed, massively. His build was now that of a man, and a battle-trained one, but Lewis saw in him still the thin features of the Rosenthal family and the bright eyes he had as a child.

“Ciel,” he simply had said and trailed off into silence as he scrutinized him. His little brother seemed to be crying. Tears did not fall, but Lewis could see the water had already built up in his sibling’s eyes. He cocked a head to the side at his little brother’s sentimentality, but forgave this moment of weakness, as after all... “It’s been five long years,” he finally said, after a minute of quietude. “Brother of mine, how have you been?”

Ciel came back to life once the initial shock faded. His face broke into the smile as he wiped back the tears. “Lewis,” he said. “I am so fucking glad to see you.”

At his brother’s crude words, Lewis crinkled his eyebrows and his nostrils all at once. “Such profanity is unbefitting of one of royal birth as yourself,” he said, rather tightly, but he softened at his brother’s face realizing now was not the time. “However, I, for one, am glad to see you, too.”

Smiling, Ciel stepped forth, and brought his brother into a rough embrace, which Lewis promptly broke out of, scowling again.

“We are royalty, we--”

“Forgive my manners, I have been living with mercenaries these past few years,” said Ciel, brushing him off.

“Mercenaries!” said Lewis, creasing his eyebrows again.

“Ah, yes.”

Lewis looked at him for a moment, before speaking again. “Come, let us find a place to sit down, and hear what has transpired all these years we’ve separated.”[/spoiler]

[Alice Moonflowyr]

I...am immediately reminded of Nine Princes in Amber reading this.

 

While this was rather short, I enjoyed it. It has promise. As for the writing itself, the non-dialogue bits were actually written quite well. Your description of the world/characters was quite good.

 

The dialogue was a bit...off. It might be just because there's so little of it, but idk. Even the so-called 'ill-mannered' dialogue felt really stiff.

 

Even so, I like this. Curious to see where it'll go.