1A/N: I belatedly realized that this looks an awful lot like Fowl68's 'Conversation with a Thirteen Year Old'. Not intended but... Inspired and adapted from Angela Aki's song Tegami. Not as polished as I'd wanted, but... I desperately need to get some semblance of writing out.
When a determinedly loud cry echoed through the castle halls, 10 year-old Prince Freyjadour Falenas knew he wasn't going to get any of his morning reading done. By now the entire castle must have been gathering on the east wing where his baby sister marked her territory. A sister whom he doth loved very much, and whom he would like to try extending a hand helping for whatever was upsetting her yet again. But he wasn't about to make the maid's job harder than it was. Lymsleia rejected him quite clearly. Forcing his presence on her would just make the matter worse. So he slipped quietly to the courtyard, calculating how much time he could buy until activity resumed again and his father could stop by his tutor to discuss what he should do for the rest of the day.
He rounded the corridors without much fuss, as always, and now tiptoeing to close the iron gates as gentle as possible. He'd practiced his moves since tender age, swiftly learning that a prince's presence was often unwelcome. As he made his way to his favorite secluded spot by the grassy fields, he wondered what his tutor would bring today. They'd covered geography before, and now easing him into world history. His parents made no secret that they didn't skimp on his education just because he was a prince, and it made his days all the more worthwhile because he knew many people didn't share the sentiment. They were hoping to get him diplomatic roles, and boy did he try. But nice as his parents were, expectations were high, and it got lonely an awful lot without someone his age around. Every now and then, he sought refuge at this place.
One upside of being an obedient and less important child was that he was often left alone. (Contradictory to his loneliness, he did not want to be surrounded all day by people wishing they'd gotten better posts.) The castle was not a safe space when his mother was growing up, so she seemed to let him roam relatively freely in compensation, one of the many things Frey felt he should be glad for.
The morning was a windy one. Frey picked a corner and sat down, watching idly as the wildflowers swayed. After a while, he twirled the parchment and quill he stashed. He'd been thinking about this for a while now. Galleon and his father wouldn't approve, he thought, it was too much a security risk. But he needed this. Beside, he'd never seen anyone else around. With the palace's grandeur, there were plenty of spaces for hideaways. His aunt Sialeeds once jested that every member of the royal family got a nook for themselves to retire whenever politics choked the air out of the rooms. The courtyard was as insignificant as his status.
Straightening the parchment with four tiny pebbles, Frey laid down on the grass and began to write. Around him the wind rustled, and slowly the world faded to the background.
"Dear my future self,
I wonder how life would be for you at the time.
Even if Falena is prospering, there are times in which my mind couldn't help but waver.
I know what the nobles are saying, and I too keep looking far ahead just to see what I could possibly do.
Mother and Father are absolutely amazing. Aunts Haswar and Sialeeds couldn't stop babying me.
But is there really a place for me somewhere here?
Even little Lymmie knows just how little a prince matters.
Sometime I wish we could let go of all these trappings and just be a family like the ones I've seen in my travels.
Those are selfish thoughts, ones I ought to banish, but I suppose this is why I'm writing, after all."
The noise from the castle had subsided by the time he finished. The Sun was high on its mighty throne, signalling the prime midday. Soon, merchants and nobles would come filling out the common area. His tutor would likely realize his absence by then. Frey rolled the parchment carefully and tucked it into a loose opening between the brick walls.
He stole a few precious minutes to count the clouds hovering by before leaving without a second glance. It was cathartic and comforting and Frey didn't think about it anymore until he returned to the place two weeks after.
The place was as deserted as ever. However, something was different. One tiny difference he doubt anyone else would notice. There was another parchment stuck beside his, which had shown sign of being read and refolded. However, as he glanced around with apprehension, there was no soul to be seen. It was a small clearing. He could see everyone in the area from his vantage point.
Deciding whoever left it for him had been long gone, he pulled the parchment and examined the content. Surprisingly, it was in fact a reply to his letter.
"Dear my 10-year-old self,
Things may seem difficult sometime, and you will continue to face more as you walk forward.
However, don't lose heart. There will be hardships. There will be trying times. But you aren't going to be alone, and you're certainly able to overcome everything."
To add more to his confusion, the letter was written in his signature style. He could recognize the same looping arches and harried dashes his tutor was always complaining him about, only a bit more stable in strokes. However, it was clear that whoever wrote it didn't have access to the fine Sun Palace inkwells. He should be embarrassed, even mortified, that someone had busted him out. The letter was trivial in content, as it was meant to be little more than a cute pastime, but he could've been tempted to write something more intimate. Against his better judgment, Frey wrote another letter and replaced the reply with his. The other two letters found home in the hardbound codex of Estrise Trades he was reading.
He counted the clouds again that day, and the day after.
The curious exchange went back and forth a few more times within a month, and Frey found himself increasingly motivated to check the hideout as frequently as he could. There was a lot to ask. Who knew the place? Who found his letter? Why wrote him back? But whenever he arrived, he would only find a new letter to read and the blue sky cascading over the desolate arcades.
"Even now as I'm older I still haven't known my place in the country.
But there is something I can do and I must do.
I will hold on that goal with all my might.
One day, you will look behind and laugh at how far you've gone."
At the end of the month however, someone was there first.
Frey stopped his tracks at the foreign sight. The other party saw him coming, and reacted with just the right amount of calmness and finesse to make it awkward. The man gestured to a place beside him, beckoning Frey to take a place.
"So you're the one who'd been returning my letters."
The foreigner laughed. Frey was disturbed at how familiar that sounded.
"Are you disappointed? Or maybe hoping I was someone else? Your parents perhaps?"
Brown nondescript cape. Garments of high quality, yet strangely marred and sullied. Unnaturally brown hair. He'd seen this somewhere in his dream.
It felt like a dream too, with how surreal it all came to be.
Bizarre as it was, Frey sat as instructed. He looked at the man's all-knowing eyes and got a little bashful.
"I hate to admit this, but I am kind of disappointed. Sometime I entertain the idea of actually talking with my future self and it makes a lot of thing easier. I mean, what you wrote was pretty nice. And no, while I suspected my parents might be a possibility, I'm glad it wasn't. That would be awkward."
He smiled.
"Your parents are nice people."
"They are."
Frey didn't know what else to say. He never had to think about that in this place. Usually this was the place for him to lay around daydreaming, be content.
The clouds were shaped like birds, wings lined with silver. Silver as his hair. Silver like his mother's. Silver like the blood running down his veins.
In the stories his aunt Haswar liked to tell, dreams colluded into reality all too often, and there was no reason not to believe the instance was just one of them.
The older man broke the silence easily like he was always there with him.
"Who knows? Maybe it was really you in the future who sent me here."
"You know how to appease me, don't you?"
Frey wasn't a foreigner to court etiquette and false admiration, but somewhere he was convinced the man was sincere. Talking to this person was frighteningly easy that Frey caught himself using the most casual diction he'd ever employed to carry the conversation. His tutor would cringe at how 'un-royal' he sounded. There was something in the mystery man that called onto him, getting him to unload words off his chest.
"You learn."
He should be alarmed, thought Frey. It was a clear security breach. Did the man know he was the Prince? He should. No one should be able to come this close to the private quarters without being employed by the castle in any capacity. Yet here he was. talking like two old friends. How old was he, anyway? Twenty? No. Should be no older that eighteen. That was almost twice his age.
He did not ask for an introduction. Frey did not ask. He could pretend anonymity existed between them, that secret could be shared even just for a little while. There was no coaxing, but the man's subtle smile and gentle eyes reminded him of his mother and he began talking.
"I think my sister hates me. I know she does."
"Do you love your sister?"
"Oh, I do. I adore her. Auntie says I dote on her too much, but it's hard not to. She's bright and pretty. Lymmie's got mother's eyes and father's hair."
"Then keep loving her. It doesn't have to go both ways."
"I would wish she could...see me as his brother, that's all."
"She's only four. You just have to be around for her."
"Where else would I be, anyway?"
He let out a weak laugh. Soon, conversations spilled onto many many small things he was worrying about. He couldn't remember the last time he was that free. Most of the time the man let him do the talking without interruption. Every now and then, he would reply with something vague yet comforting. Only when the sky turned crimson was he reminded of the time slipping away.
There was an ethereal quality to the exchange. Frey was sure he wouldn't forget it anytime soon.
"You feel like working in the palace? I might be able to get father assign you as my tutor. You seem to know a lot of things."
"I merely have seen more than you, that's all. The perks come with age. As much as that's tempting, I will refrain. Thank you for the offer."
Testing the water yielded nothing. If the man was surprised that Frey knew he wasn't part of the castle, he showed a commendable composure.
"How long will you be here?"
"Oh, I don't know. Always on the move, you know how it goes."
"That's a shame. You'll make a good friend."
"You'll meet plenty more, I'm sure. In fact, you should be getting one soon."
"Huh. You're very confident."
"I am."
That was the first and last time he met the strange intruder. He left just as sudden as he appeared, and at the end of it Frey thought he could hear the skylarks sing.
He didn't know then, but a few days after, his father brought him a kid he'd saved from a Nether Gate operations, someone who'd never been far from his side from that day onwards. He'd never counted the clouds alone again.
"Prince? Prince!"
"Prince! Oh, I'm so glad!"
"Hmmmh..."
All at once, a cacophony of color flooded Frey's senses as he regained consciousness. Half of his castle's inhabitants seemed to have filled the nook and cranny of the shopping street basement. From the corner of his sight was Dongo, curiously eyeing the crowd around him while polishing off a piece of metal. Mohsen arranging his storefronts. Viki and Luserina a little beyond their usual place, pushed forward by the surge of people coming down from the stairs. Roy's wary gaze directed towards Lyon who was fussing loudly by his side.
Gaining his balance, he straightened his posture and placed a hand on Lyon's shoulder to signify he was alright.
"Hey, Lyon?"
"Y-yes, Prince?"
"Thank you."
"I'm sorry I make everyone concerned. How long had I been gone?"
"Half a day. It's nearly dusk."
"We're afraid you're sent across the country, or worse, the continent..."
Oh. That must be why Viki looked so frightened.
Lyon loosened her grip on him, gasping. "Prince! Your hair!"
Frey cringed. He'd have to hide the striking Falenan silver when he slipped to the past as it would quick to rouse suspicion, so he dyed it first thing first. He wasn't doing so well about it going by the snide comments Josephine was throwing him.
Viki apologized profusely, seemingly on the verge of tears. Somewhere, he could make the sound of Roy snickering.
"I'm-I'm-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"
"It's alright, Viki, it's alright," he consoled. The mage resorted into waving her staff frantically, and Frey hoped it wouldn't cause anymore accident.
"Besides," he added,"I got to meet an old friend."
Lyon raised his eyebrows. "Where were you, Prince?"
He shook his head. "Somewhere I miss."
Then he swept over the room, trying to simultaneously convince everyone that he was in one piece and all healthy. The place was completely packed. Frey was touched that they seemed to don the same worried set of eyes across.
"Somewhere I miss," he began again, now calmer, steadier. "Which means I'll have to work hard to end this war soon."
He felt strangely giddy. Energized. The encounter with his younger self had brought his resolve back anew.
Lyon, however, regarded the sudden jolt of spirit rather dubious. "Should we get Dr. Silva to check on you?"
Frey laughed. He wouldn't be needing that. Not anytime soon.
He saw a glimpse of the sky from the basement windows. He should be a proud adult for his ten year-old self. Was he so unsure back in the day? Perhaps he was, and still so. But it no longer mattered. Surrounding him was the many many people who'd placed their trusts on him, and proven his trust on them.
"I'm alright, Lyon. Would you get Lucretia for me? Also..." he closed his eyes. "When the war's over, there's something I'd like to show you."
Yes, he would be alright.
Perhaps it was a figment of his imagination, but he could hear the skylarks sing. Somewhere, beyond the clouds.
