Deepest Betrayal

Dreams of Yesterday

         Duncan yawned and stretched his arms over his head. He was absolutely exhausted and beyond sore. He struggled to keep his eyes open. He looked out through the curtains and was reassured that the sun still shone brightly in the sky. His enemies would not be at able to mount another attack yet. He closed his eyes and let out a gentle sigh, falling fast into deep slumber. His mouth spread into a smile. He was having one of his most favorite dreams. 

   He was home, and just a small child. War had not yet ravaged the youth and kindness from his father's face. King Richard stood tall and proud, laughing joyously in front of his throne. His long red hair flowing with a slight wave from under a majestic crown, his tunic a rich deep green, with matching hose. He stood barefoot as he often did when he was relaxed with a silly grin upon his face. His nose was slightly crooked from being broke in childhood, and his deep sapphire blue eyes sparkled with mischief. Duncan walked up to him and he mussed his hair before sweeping him up in his arms in a great big bear hug. 

   Delicious smells drifted from the kitchen of roast mutton, and savory pies. King Richard and tossed Duncan high into the air, pretending to not pay attention, and catching him just before he hit the floor. It was Duncan's absolute favorite game and he laughed with glee. He loved his father so very much. He vowed to one day be as big and strong as he. King Richard lifted him up and onto his shoulders, holding tight to his feet and ran around the room, galloping and neighing like a horse, eliciting squeals of delight from the tiny Duncan. When he became winded he gently sit his son down upon his throne, and reaching up removed the crown from his head and placed it upon Duncan's. It was too big and it slipped down and sit at an odd angle almost obscuring Duncan's vision. 

    " Hear ye, Hear ye," King Richard addressed the small gathering of servants that now looked on with admiration at their king,  "  today is of the upmost importance, for today is our beloved Duncan's fifth birthday, which makes him a full hand old!"

   Cheers and claps echoed in the tiny room, and Duncan squirmed in his seat. 

     " Poppa, did you keep your promise? Did you get me a sword just like yours?," he asked, he face full of hope. 

     " Nay, tiny one, I got ye something much much better."

     He snapped his fingers and two servants walked forth leading a tiny black pony, with red ribbons woven in his mane. A tiny black saddle was attached to the horse.  Duncan clapped his hands and ran up to the pony, stroking the soft mane. The pony nuzzled his head into Duncan's arms. 

      " What do ye think, son? Is he worthy of ye?"

      " Aye, Poppa. I love him."

   King Richard laughed and placed his son into the saddle handing him the reins. Duncan trotted the horse out the door and through a haze. 

    The scene shifted, Duncan was now a young boy of ten, he and his father sit upon a riverside lazily skipping rocks. Their fishing poles stuck fast in the mud, with tiny bells attached in case a fish decided to take the bait. They had traveled to visit an old friend of his father. It was a lovely summer day and the sun beat down upon Duncan's face. A small tartan blanket laid spread out with a small feast for he and his father. A young girl ran along the other side of the river bank laughing and playing with a small puppy, her auburn hair flowing in the breeze. Behind her, a boy who appeared to be slightly older than Duncan, ran after her, carrying a basket full of the tiny wild flowers she had stopped to pick. He shouted at her to slow down and the young girl turned to stick her tongue out at him and place her hands on her hips. Duncan laughed and King Richard scowled at him. 

    " Don't be encouraging that behavior. That be the princess of this land and her older brother, the crown prince. "

   Duncan found her rather charming and free spirited. He thought to himself that he would very much like to have a wife such as she. 

   The scene began to drift and fade and was once again replaced with yet another vision of yesteryear. This time Duncan was a strong lad of thirteen, standing tall and rigid in the stance his father had instructed him in, a beautiful bow of carved oak in his hand, arrow notched and ready to take flight. He let it fly and much to his disappointment it sunk itself into the ground a mere five feet from him. He tried again and again to get the arrow to the target and only managed to infuriate himself even more, missing the target every time. He finally threw the bow to the ground and stomped off, accepting that he would never be an archer. 

 Mist once again clouded the edges of the dream, warping and twisting the image to a darker, more depressing scene. The image was of him at fifteen. He stood in his room pacing back and forth. His father had rode once again to his old friend's kingdom, but with a different purpose this time. This time he had went with the intention of procuring  him a bride. His five older brother had long since been betrothed and three of them were happily wed. He anxiously awaited his father's return as unwed princesses were becoming quite scarce. War had came to these lands, and it had took it's toll, many of the princesses were rushed into marriage to foreign princes in a desperate bid to grant them escape from the horrors of The Void. No one knew what is was or who had summoned it, but it came with a force and speed that no one could withstand, taking with it the innocence and happiness of Duncan's youth. In the distance trumpets sounded, announcing the return of the king. Duncan rushed out to meet him, eager to hear the good news. His mind thinking back to the last glimpse he had had of the princess. He smiled. It was rumored she was even more free spirited and ten times more beautiful. Envious whispers abounded between his older brothers when it was revealed who his betrothed was to be. It seemed many people had sought the fair Blair's hand, and many were turned down, including Prince Edward the third of England. King Lionel had rejected every single one. Duncan reached the doors and swung them wide, and a dark storm swirled in front of his eyes. 

    Duncan stirred and struck out in his slumber, trying to rouse himself awake. He knew what scene was going to play out next. Desperately, he shouted to himself to wake up! He did not wish to relive this scene at all, but play out it did.  

    The sky took on a dark and ominous shade of black, and the wind howled, he once again stood in the forest, Colin at his side, both holding razor sharp swords. King Richard was leading Duncan into his very first battle against The Voids minions. Off to the left, Duncan heard a twig snap, he readied himself to engage the enemy but it happened so fast. One minute they stood alone, carefully trudging through the woods and the next they were completely surrounded by snarling creatures, their fangs glistening in the moonlight. He fought gallantly, slaying several in his path, fighting to reach his father. 

 " WAKE UP!," He urged himself in his mind,  " You know what comes next. You don't need to see this again for the love of god wake up!! "

   Tears started to stream out of the sleeping Duncan's eyes. Camilla reached over and shook him trying to awaken him. She knew the scene playing out in his mind. Her brother had told her of the good king's horrible demise upon her return to escort her princess home to them. She tried harder to wake him but it was no use. Duncan'[s mind seemed determined to relive that horrible day yet again. Camilla let out a sigh, and slid next to him, cradling his head to her chest. She found herself actually cursing her pact for the first time in four hundred years. Had she not agreed to her powers being useless on the clan, she would have been able to easily awaken him. Now as she could do was stroke his hair and whisper reassurances in his ear as the dream took it's terrible course. 

  Duncan reached his father, the bastard Kendric now had a hold of him by his hair, forcing his neck back. 

   " Oh, how I wished you were be here to witness this, you bloody cur!! You took what I wanted most and now I'm going to take something from you!," he snarled and sank his teeth into King Richard's neck, the blood spurting out and all down his tunic. 

  Duncan lunged forward with his sword at the ready and watched in horror as Kendric sprouted wings, and sprung into the air, his father's neck still firmly clasped in his mouth.

    "Let him go!!! I took nothing from you!!! Let him go!!!," Duncan yelled into the clouds, squinting trying to locate him. 

    Cruel laughter was the only response, then a flash of gold as he spotted his father falling from the heaven's above and hitting with a sickening thud onto the ground. Duncan rushed over to him, and rolled him gently over. The king lay gasping and struggling for air, blood sputtering from his mouth. 

   " No, Poppa, don't try to speak, you're going to be alright, we'll get you home and then we'll get you healed, and we'll make these bastards pay!," Duncan vowed. 

   King Richard smiled and slowly shook his head. He struggled to form his last words. 

    " All up to you now, son. I love you.," he said and his eyes glassed over and his hand fell from Duncan's. The mighty King had breathed his last.

   Duncan bolted awake, almost hitting poor Camilla in the face. He looked around before realizing he was inside his own carriage and safe. He let out a shaky breath. God damn that dream. His eyes rested upon the gently sleeping Blair. Lucky, he thought. her dreams were probably filled with sunshine and a field of flowers. Such were Camilla's powers. He looked over. When had she slid next to him and begun to comfort him? He gently pushed her away.

    " I'm alright, really," he said and moved away from her. 

   Camilla made a sound of disbelief, but pressed the issue no further.  She looked out the curtain, the sun was beginning to set and a heavy fog was falling upon the mountain.  A gentle rain began to fall. The carriages were coming to a stop and she could hear the sounds of tents beginning to be set up. Groans were heard as the injured and wounded men were helped down and into their respectful shelters. There would be no merry making or great feast tonight. Each family would be huddled in their tent on high alert after last nights events. She sighed and longed for the innocent dreams of yesterday.