Dreams of Protection

1

As I walked into the room, my heart wrenched to see her there, drawn out on her bed with no one there to ease her pain. As I drew nearer to her bedside, I noticed that her body was freckled with perspiration from the high fever that she had been carrying for so long.2

I watched as she tossed and turned, trying to escape the terrors that had evaded her defenses and had pervaded her dreams. “Christina,” I heard my voice utter in the dreary silence as I stood alone to guard my one and only love.3

I watched as the fire consumed my father’s cherished mansion. I watched as she struggled, in a solitary effort to escape the dreams that had taunted her for so long, haunting her, robbing her of her only chance to sleep in this forbidding world of unrest.4

Finally, she and I were alone as I stood guard over her on my solitary post. I watched my only love suffer from the things she could not begin to escape: the fevers, the nightmares, and her unavoidable hereditary health problems. I stood watch from day-to-day, watching her kill herself slowly as she fought to protect her world and kingdom. She’d endured a temperature of over 103 degrees. I watched her suffer, reluctantly obeying her request to not seek medical attention. I watched in horror as her magic failed her at last. I watched as her successor cut her down mercilessly and with no regret.5

And, now, I watch as my love bleeds slowly to death, as I can do nothing to ease her excruciating pain. “Christina,” I whispered again as emotions choked off my voice. I sat down gently next to her side and tenderly brushed her bangs away from her still-radiant face. I head one of her soft, silky hands in mine as I fought the tears that wanted so dearly to run down my pale face.6

Her eyes fluttered open, slowly taking in her surroundings.7

“Christina?” I asked, my voice again choking from emotion, from fear.8

Her eyes reached mine as she smiled with fond familiarity. She reached up slowly, exhausting her formerly inexhaustible strength. She pushed the bangs out of my eyes with a touch as tender as if she were touching her first-born child. She touched my cheek, just as she flinched, drawing up from pain.9

“Chris? Are you okay?” I whispered, the air much too still for me to dare raise my voice any higher.10

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered, exhausted from battle.11

A solitary tear fell down my cheek as I sat there, watching her suffer from the hands of our very own child.12

“Don’t worry about me, love,” she whispered, a tender look in her bright sapphire eyes. “I’ll be in a place far better than you, soon.”13

“I can’t let you die,” I replied with fervent anger, my hands tightening on hers.14

She smiled softly. “It seems that the choice is no longer in my hands, love.” She winced as her soreness and pain grew stronger. Her eyes clear once more, she caressed my cheek, drawing my face closer to hers. “Richard, please try talking some sense into Bridget. Please, set her straight for me.”15

“You’ll get to do that yourself,” I promised, more tears threatening to spill over. My eyes catching her own determined sapphires, my heart wrenched open. She had already resigned herself to death. I kissed her softly, determined not to cry, and in that moment, I could feel her smile.16

“I love you, Richard. Always remember that,” she whispered tenderly. “Always.” Looking up into my eyes, she added, “Goodbye, my love.” 17

And, at last, I watched her fade into death.18

“No!” I screamed, waking up in my unlit bedroom. I caught my breath remembering the cold atmosphere of the room I had just left. I looked up at my alarm clock: 5 a.m. She would most definitely be up, I thought to myself. I picked up my cell and dialed her familiar number.19

“Hello?” a voice answered, not Christina.20

“Is Christina there?”21

“No, she’s not. May I take a message?” 22

“Oh-sorry. Just tell her to call Richard ASAP.”23

“Just a moment, sir. She asked to have your calls forwarded to her. Let me connect you.”24

“Thanks.”25

One ring. Two rings. Someone picked up the phone, but there was a great clatter before I heard her curse softly. Finally, “Hello?”26

I sighed with complete relief. “Hey,” I replied.27

I could almost feel her smile as she asked me, “Why are you up so early?”28

“Rough dreams,” I replied simply. “I just had to be sure you were okay.”29

“I’m safe, Richard. There’s no need to worry about me. I’m unfortunately well-protected in this castle, you know that.”30

“I’m glad you’re so protected. If you had any idea of what I just dreamt, you’d be glad, too.”31

“When’re you coming home, love?”32

“Tomorrow, I think. Can you do me a favor?”33

“Depends on the favor,” she said, cautiously.34

“Don’t do anything to piss Bridget off.”35

“She’s my fifteen-year-old daughter, Richard. Her job description includes being mad at the world. How’m I supposed to not piss her off?”36

“Christina, please.” I wasn’t quite beyond groveling, not yet, not after what I’d seen.37

“I’ll try, but I’m not guaranteeing anything, here. You know our daughter.”38

“And I also know you, Chris.”39

“Richard – I’m going to have to call you back later,” she gasped, ending the conversation.40

I smiled softly. Christina was pregnant with our second child, a concept that Bridget had failed to understand. I remembered that argument well, and her case was well prepared. If Christina were to have a boy, Bridget’s training would have been completely useless. If Christina were to have a girl, she would take Bridget’s place as daughter, or so she thought.41

We tried to rationalize with her, but in the end, she thought she was right, so we just let her go.42

I sat up in bed and made to get ready for my day. Brushing my teeth, I changed thoughts; I decided to go home. I explained to my mother that I was desperately needed at home, and she let me go, after making me promise to be careful.43

As I drove, the dream stayed vivid in my mind. I wasn’t too far from the security of the castle when I remembered one thing: Bridget’s sword. We had given it to her when her training was complete, to defend her country. I remembered now, her naked sword streaked with her mother’s blood.44

Pulling through the gates, I noticed the angry atmosphere. Bridget was tossing about everything within her magic’s reach in her rage.45

I saw Christina, streaked with sweat and breathing hard. “Christina!” I called.46

“Richard, you should have stayed with y our family!” she said, stopping long enough to throw up a shield to protect herself from the wood and bricks that Bridget had shoved her way. She turned her back to Bridget, shield still raised, addressing me, “She ordered her guards to slaughter your parents and everyone else inside and outside their mansion. Go back!”47

“I’m not leaving you here,” I protested.48

“I am more than capable of protecting myself.”49

“Christina –!” I yelled, warning her.50

However, I was too late. Christina’s magical shield flickered and failed as Bridget swung her sword. Christina jumped away from the incoming blow, but not quick enough. She fell to the ground, a deep slash cut across her stomach.51

I ran to her and cradled her in my arms, picking her up as a few guards distracted Bridget. With one last look at my daughter, I pulled Christina away from the battle and took her into the safety of the castle.52

After I placed her gently on the bed, I checked the security of the tower hallways. Certain that everything was secure I went back to her.53

As I walked into the room, my heart wrenched to see her there, drawn out on the bed with no one there able to ease her pain. All of the royal medics were out tending to civilians and other nobility. As I drew nearer to her bedside, I noticed that her body was freckled with perspiration from the high fever that she had been carrying for so long.54

I watched as she tossed and turned, trying to escape the terrors that had evaded her defenses and had pervaded her dreams. “Christina.” I almost didn’t even hear my voice through the turmoil that was tearing away my heart.55

I watched as the fires consumed my father’s cherished mansion in the mountains to the east. To think that my only daughter had done this all to her family was just too much for me to bear. I had loved Bridget, she was, after all, my blood, but I had loved Christina with all of my heart and all of my soul. I watched as she struggled in her solitary effort to escape the dreams that had taunted her for so long, even as they taunted her now, robbing her of her only chance to rest.56

Finally, she and I were alone as I stood guard over her on my solitary post. I watched my only love suffer from the things she could not begin to escape: the fevers, the nightmares, and her unavoidable hereditary health problems. I had stood watch from day-to-day, watching her kill herself slowly as she fought to protect her world and kingdom. She endured temperatures of over 103 degrees, and I had watched her suffer, reluctantly obeying her wish to not seek medical attention. I had watched in absolute horror as her magic failed her, at last. I had watched as her one and only daughter had cut her down mercilessly and with absolutely no regret.57

And, now, I watch as my love bleeds slowly to death, as I can do nothing to ease her excruciating pain. “Christina,” I whispered again as emotions rose from the bottom of my heart, choking off my voice. I sat down gently next to her side and tenderly brushed her bangs away from her still-radiant face. I held one of her soft, silky hands in mine as I fought the tears that wanted to dearly to run down my paling face.58

Her eyes fluttered open, slowly taking in their surroundings.59

“Christina?”  I asked, my voice again choking from emotion, from fear.60

Her eyes reached mine as she smiled slowly with fond familiarity. She reached up slowly, exhausting her formerly inexhaustible strength. She pushed t he bangs out of my eyes with a touch as tender as if she were touching her first-born child. She touched my cheek, just as she flinched, drawing up from pain.61

“Chris? Are you okay?” I whispered, the air much too still for me to dare raise my voice any higher.62

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered, exhausted from her battle.63

A solitary tear fell down my cheek as I sat there, watching her suffer from the hands of our very own child.64

“Don’t worry about me, love,” she whispered, a tender look in her bright sapphire eyes. “I’ll be in a place far better than you soon.”65

“I can’t let you die,” I replied with a fervent anger, my hand tightening on hers.66

She smiled softly, “It seems that choice is no longer in my hands, love.” She winced as her soreness and pain grew stronger. Her eyes clear once more, she caressed my cheek, drawing my face closer to hers. “Richard, please try to talk some sense into Bridget. Please set her straight for me.”67

“You’ll get to do that yourself,” I promised, more tears threatening to spill over. My eyes catching her own determined sapphires, my heart wrenched open. She had already resigned herself to death. I kissed her softly, slowly, determined not to cry, and in that moment, I could feel her smile.68

“I love you, Richard. Always remember that,” she whispered tenderly. “Always.” Looking up into my eyes, she added, “Goodbye, my love.”69

And, at last, as my heart screamed into the artificial silence, I watched my one and only love fade slowly into death.70