A Princess Named Harry: Book 2

Chapter 21

After enjoying such a fun experience, Harry had thought that she'd be able to have good dreams that night, but she couldn't have been more wrong.

For many months, she had always had the same dream. In her dream, she stood powerless as she watched her kingdom burn to the ground and saw innocent people dying. In the dreams, her family would always change positions.

One night they would all be by her side, silently watching in horror, then in another, her parents would be far away from her while Kahil consoled her, or Kahil would be the only one there.

On some nights, it would be Kaitlyn. She would stand beside Harry and tell her how everything was her fault.

The one person who was always there in the dreams was Varian. He never moved in her dreams. He always remained by her side. He stood still and silent, and his eyes were always fixated on the burning palace.

Sometimes Harry would be in a dress staring out at everything, and sometimes she would be in her knight uniform pointing a sword towards the destruction. She tried to move around in the dream, but her body would never budge from that same spot.

The dream was usually so vivid, but this time, Harry could smell the smoke from the flames. Every breath she took made her chest tighten and burn. She could feel the heat on her skin. Her eyes stung from all the smoke. When she turned to look at Varian, he was as still as always. His eyes fixated on the palace as usual.

Harry usually would try to talk to him or would just leave him alone, but this time, she decided to change her usual routine.

Harry grabbed ahold of Varian's shoulder. She tried to shake him out of his trance-like state.

"Varian!" she cried. "Varian! What's going on? Tell me what happened here! Please!"

For the first time, Varian moved. He slowly turned towards her. He looked disgusted and angry with Harry.

"Don't touch me," he ordered coldly. "This is all your fault."

Harry's eyes widened, and she could feel her heartbeat getting quicker. She asked in a shaky voice, "My fault? Why is it my fault?"

Varian's mouth opened slightly as he asked, "You really don't know?"

Harry nodded. Her arms trembled violently as she tightened her grip on Varian's shoulders.

"It's your fault," Varian repeated. "Your very existence caused all this." He smiled a cruel and scary smile as he finished. "You shouldn't have been born."

•••

Harry's eyes shot open, and she quickly sat up from her bed. She was drenched in sweat, and her heartbeat wouldn't slow down. Despite the sweat dripping from her face and arms, she felt cold. Very cold. When she wiped her face, she could feel the remnants of tears.

"It was just a dream," she panted. "It was only a dream. It's okay. It's okay." She tried to calm herself down. "Varian would never say something like that. It's okay. I'll be okay."

Harry felt tears trickling down her cheeks. No matter how much she tried to tell herself she'd be okay, she couldn't bring herself to believe it. She could still smell the smoke and feel the heat on her arms.

•••

The Cardiaire Kingdom had a tall intimidating tower far away from civilization. It was built to lock away the kingdom's most potential threats. Most people didn't know such a place existed. The tower was hard to find. It wasn't a place one could simply stumble across. They would have to know where to look. The tower originally had no name or purpose until the previous king decided to make it into a prison for special criminals. He called it 'The Ivory Tower.'

In small, cramped cells, with cruel guards who could care less for the wellbeing of its inhabitants sat a boy. His once blonde hair now had dirt matted up in it, his body was caked in dirt, and he surely smelled horrid. His once bright blue eyes held no light or hope in them. They appeared to be voids of darkness. If they had ever held hope in them before, then it had completely vanished.

The Ivory Tower had that effect on its prisoners. After being fed food that was suited for rodents and being spat on and being treated as less than a person by the prison guards, one would eventually lose hope or even sanity all together.

The boy had tried very hard to keep his sanity in the first days he was there, but now nearly ten months had passed since he was locked up, but he couldn't care less. All he wanted was some solid food for once.

His hair had been bothering him. It had grown to the length of his armpits, and his bangs had grown past his eyes. He used to fight with his hair for hours, but now, they sat undisturbed in his eyes.

The boy stayed curled up on the floor. It was cold and a little damp, but after a couple of weeks, he also became used to it.

His life had never been easy, he had always lived in conditions like this, but that had changed-at least it had for a little while. He had gotten used to the feeling of freedom, of not starving, of surviving, of having the luxury to get to sleep on a soft comfortable bed.

The academy had provided him with all sorts of luxury despite being of low birth. His skill with swords had let him rise above the rest and earn himself some form of decency, but all of that had vanished because of his kingdom's new little princess.

He hadn't fully been aware yet of the consequences that came with challenging royalty. If he had simply ignored the girl after she won her first duel instead of getting jealous over her skills, then he wouldn't have challenged her. If he hadn't lost control over his emotions, he wouldn't have revealed his secret so easily.

He knew that the Cardiaire Kingdom- his kingdom- his home hated people like him. Abominations, those people who could use the detestable thing called magic, yet he dared to use it and, on their princess, no less.

He had used magic to win, but he still ended up losing. It was because of that girl's words. They had taken him by surprise. A commoner like himself became royalty. Such a thing was so preposterous that it made him hesitate. His hesitation led to his defeat.

Soon after, he was imprisoned in the academy's dungeon. He had no choice but to sit and wait for his sentence. As the hours ticked by, he was visited late in the night by the crown prince and his loyal companion. They had asked him many questions and had many ways to go about getting the answers. The red-haired boy hadn't been as nearly as cruel as the prince. If it hadn't been for the boy's interference, then the prince would've killed him on the spot.

His answers hadn't been pleasing, and as a result, the prince locked him away in the Ivory Tower, and he'd been there ever since. No one came to visit him besides the guards, who only came to make their rounds.

The boy sat in his own filth contemplating his demise. Did he hate the kingdom that betrayed and humiliated him? Maybe. Did he want to get revenge and kill the wicked prince and possibly the king after that? He often had those sorts of fantasies, but what he hated most and wanted to kill the most was himself.

He hated his magic. He hated all he could do with it. He hated being powerful, and he hated his mother for making him believe that his power was a blessing, a gift from above.

The boy had hope to escape, but it was impossible. The Ivory Tower was impenetrable. He tried to escape twice. The first time, he was sent back to his cell with no food or water for three days, but the second time, he was beaten enough to learn not to attempt to escape ever again.

It was around the third month that he gave up trying. He tried to keep himself sane, but in the fifth month, he gave up all hope and sanity he had left. He sat on the ground never making a sound never making a peep. He just sat staring at the wall for all hours of the day. At night, he hardly got any sleep. The dark bags around his eyes were proof of that.

The ten months had been hell. His spirit was gone. Now all he could do was wait for death. He hoped it would be soon and quick, but he knew better than to think that. He was a criminal. A criminal like him could never have an easy death.

He spent his time staring at the wall because it was safe. The wall had no expectations for him. He could stare at it for hours, and it would not speak to him. It would not demand anything; it would just be there. Unchanging and silent.

The boy hated the silence, but maybe he had grown to love it. Nothing would change. His routine was the same. Silent and boring. That's how it would always be.

It should have been that way, but suddenly, the boy heard a noise. He heard one of the guard's screams echo through the walls.

He wanted to find out what was going on, but how could he? He was a prisoner in a cell.

He thought if he couldn't roam the halls to check for anything suspicious, then he could at least turn his head to look, but much to his surprise, his head wouldn't move. His eyes wouldn't budge from looking at that same wall.

There were more screams, and soon he heard footsteps. They grew closer and closer and louder and louder. He desperately wanted to turn his head to see what could possibly be approaching him, but his body wouldn't listen to his pleas.

Soon enough, he could see a figure from out of the corner of his eyes. It was tall and dark. The figure walked closer. The boy thought the figure would pass him, but much to his surprise, it stopped at his cell.

"Nathaniel," it called in a painfully familiar voice.

Finally, the boy got his body to listen. His eyes moved to scan the mysterious figure in front of him. A tall, hooded person was staring down at him.

The figure stood undaunting before him. "Do you want to get out of here?"

The boy felt himself getting angry with the person's words. Did he want to get out of this terrible place? Did he want to? Was that even a question to be asked? Was he just sitting in this cell because he wanted to? The boy wanted to go off on the hooded person, but no words would come out.

"I'll help you out of here if you promise to do something for me in return."

Do what? There was no doubt that it would be terrible whatever the person wanted.

"I've seen what your power can do."

The boy immediately knew what the person hoped to gain from him.

"I need someone like you to help me. Of course, you don't have to accept my offer, and you can go right on back to staring at the wall." The figure laughed. "I'm sure it's very entertaining."

"What do I have to do?" The boy was surprised at his own voice. He didn't think he was capable of speaking anymore.

"Oh, it speaks!" mocked the hooded figure.

"Of course, I speak," replied the boy rudely. "I just only talk to people who are worth my time." With each word he spoke, the boy felt himself returning to who he had been. If he was capable of speaking, then maybe he could stand up now too.

The boy stood up awkwardly. He felt embarrassed to be appearing so pathetic in front of the mysterious person, but he didn't think he was even capable of standing. Yet, he stood as tall as he could.

"I'll ask you one more time. What do you want me to do?" He sounded confident, maybe even a little arrogant, but that was far from his true feelings.

"Hmm . . . what I want, huh? How should I say it?"

He was filled with anticipation. He hadn't expected the person to answer him, yet he found himself clinging onto every word the person spoke.

"I want to destroy the Cardiaire Kingdom."

The boy felt his heart skip a beat. Before he could respond, the figure continued, "No, before that, I want to take down the Cardiaire royal family. I want to pay back all the suffering the king has inflicted on me. I'll make him watch as I destroy everything he loves most in this world." The figure pointed at the boy. "And you're going to help me with that, Nathaniel."

"And what makes you so sure of that?"

The boy gulped. He knew he shouldn't be testing the patience of someone who seemed so deranged.

"Because you aren't even from this kingdom, yourself."

"How-"

Before he could say more, the figure answered the question for him.

"I'm also not from this place. We're both from the same kingdom-the very kingdom that was destroyed by the Cardiaire royalty."

The boy began to sweat as all his senses were being forced to return to him.

"That still doesn't answer my question," he said as calmly as he could. "What do you want me to do?"

The figure began to laugh maniacally. It sounded like nails to a chalkboard. As the figure laughed, it began moving in ways that didn't seem humanly possible.

"You're going to poison the second princess at the ball that's being hosted at the palace tonight for her and her family's return from Taram."

The boy felt his body twitch at the mention of the second princess. "I thought you hated the king. Why strike at the second princess first?"

The figure froze. "Well," it said after a long pause. "You hate the second princess yourself, don't you? Let's just say we're killing two birds with one stone. So, what do you say? Will you join me, or will you rot in this cell for the rest of your life?"

The boy didn't have to think; he already knew his answer.

"I'll go with you."

"Wonderful!" chuckled the figure. With a wave of its hand, the bars on the boy's cell that held him instantly broke and fell to the floor.

"Heh," laughed the boy. "With strong powers like that, it's a wonder why you even need me."

The two began to walk down the long dark hallways. "Let's just say a war is coming."

The boy stepped outside of the tower. The air felt refreshing on his face. He didn't even care if it was night; it was still beautiful and bright. He missed being outside more than he had expected.

The figure continued to walk onward, but the boy stopped. He turned to look back at the Ivory Tower. It would probably be the last time he would ever see it, considering he wouldn't come back to burn it down to the ground.

Standing outside the tower, he felt like himself again, whole. He was no longer a prisoner boy locked away in an isolated tower. He had now become Nathaniel, a boy who was on the path to revenge.