Chapter 3
Dreams in the Mist
Misty stared out the window at a quiet sea, ignoring the book in her lap. She wasn’t in the library. Four gray walls surrounded her and her feet rested on the tattered rug, but she was somewhere far beyond the arched windows. Sighing, she rested her elbow on the table in front of her and cradled her head in her hand. Misty was dreaming again. She had left behind the cavernous, dusty room for her own world. Now she was in Johto, a distant land oceans away, home of the Ramulians. Misty had recently read about this ancient and mysterious race. They were foreign in every aspect- their silken robes, their strange foods, their homes of wood and straw. But what Misty found most interesting were the legends surrounding them. The Ramulians were said to practice magic, and knew how to cure any illness imaginable. They spoke an arcane tongue that was unintelligible to outsiders. At least, to those outsiders who managed to get in. The Ramulians were a secluded people, choosing to shut themselves off from the rest of the world. Perhaps this was part of the enigma. But Misty was fascinated by them nonetheless. She had spent hours trying to decipher their beautiful writing, studying their customs, and reading their legends.
She tried to imagine what it was like to be one of them. And perhaps she
was one of them. Misty was an orphan. No one knew who her parents were or whence she had come. And she certainly didn’t
look like a native of Kanto. But painful as this was, an ambiguous past had infinite possibilities. Misty could be anyone she wanted. She could be the child of Ramulian slaves, brought from their homeland on a ship. Her parents had abandoned her in hopes that she would be able to make a better life for herself. Maybe she even had latent magical powers. It would start slowly. She would begin to have strange dreams, dreams that would prove true in the waking world. Her powers would grow, and would soon become an invaluable aid to the king. Or perhaps her own father was a king. Perhaps she was really a princess, kidnapped from her country by a jealous uncle set on becoming ruler himself. One day a knight would arrive from Hoenn and reveal Misty’s true identity. He would put to shame those who had maltreated his princess. Then he would take her back home to anxiously awaiting parents, where the King would have a marvelous celebration in honor of his daughter’s return. The people would be overjoyed at the rescue of their long-lost princess. She and the handsome knight would fall in love and be married, and rule Hoenn together with love and wisdom
. . . And perhaps the earth was round.
Misty wasn’t a fool. She knew her fantasies for what they were, which was terribly unrealistic. The truth was probably very simple. Most likely she was the result of an evening’s passion between two misguided servants, unwanted and unloved by even her own parents. She was probably more common than a dormouse. Still, Misty couldn’t stop dreaming. She fingered the stone that hung from her neck.
Someone must have cared for her enough to give it to her. Even if the chances were small, she could almost believe that her fantasies were real. Even if it were only a game, it gave her the strength to hold her head high. In this way, Misty’s fantasies were a gift. But they had a darker side. Happy as her dreams made her, they could also bring sadness. They were so wonderful, and her own life so dull. They haunted her, a reminder of everything she could never have. It was as if happiness were just beyond her grasp, twinkling stars never to be reached. She could gaze at them to her heart’s content, but would never be able to leave the earth. Misty sighed as she thought on this.
She looked across the table at Ash, hoping for some distraction from her gloomy thoughts. He was near to falling asleep over his book, and she laughed to herself. A little too loudly, it seemed, for Ash started and glared at her. But this reaction only made her laugh more.
“Ash! Misty! What are you doing?”
“Um . . .” Misty stammered.
She had almost forgotten that Mordecai was even there.
“I brought you here to research the Kanto-Hoenn War. Now quit playing and get to work.”
“Yes sir . . .” Misty and Ash grumbled.
Philip snorted at them, acting as perturbed as he possibly could at being interrupted.
Misty blushed at being caught, but this wasn’t the first time this had happened Sometimes she had almost as much trouble paying attention in school as Ash. It wasn’t that she found her lessons boring. Not usually. But some topics were so dull that she couldn’t resist the temptation to escape to her own world. And war was one of the most boring, especially from a book. It was interesting enough when Mordecai taught it. He made the people involved seem real and the battle strategies intriguing. But in books- in books it was all names and dates, just words on paper. Misty’s imagination was much too active to let her focus on that. But for now, at least, she forced herself to concentrate on her reading. Time moved painstakingly slow. Misty’s eyes started to droop, and she feared she would fall asleep before class was over. But finally, after many long minutes, Mordecai dismissed his students. Misty sighed wearily and gathered her things, trying to make a quick exit before Mordecai could change his mind. Unfortunately, she was not quick enough.
“Misty, could I speak to you for a moment?” The old man said.
Misty cringed. She’d been stopped in her tracks just short of the door.
“So close!” She thought.
But she faked a smile, turned back to her tutor, and dutifully returned to her seat.
“What is it? Is something the matter?” She asked, a little too cheerfully.
“Oh no, it’s nothing like that. I was just wondering if you’re feeling all right. You seemed almost melancholy today.”
Misty blushed for the second time that day. Not only did she hate being scolded, she was mortified to be caught in her dream world.
“Oh, I was just thinking about something.” She laughed nervously. “I’m sorry. Anna’s always telling me to stop dreaming.”
But Mordecai shook his head emphatically.
“No, never stop dreaming.” He said. “Sometimes dreams are all we have to keep us going. Just try to keep it out of class, eh?”
Misty returned his laugh and agreed, though she didn’t think she could promise anything.
“Misty,” he continued, “I have something I’d like to give you.”
Mordecai took the worn bag he had slung over his shoulder and set it on the ground. He grimaced as he leaned over, rubbing his stiff back.
But at last he got the bag open and pulled a simple book, completely ordinary with its brown leather cover. Slowly, he righted himself, and then handed the book to Misty. She took it and quickly flipped through the pages.
“It’s blank.” she said.
“It’s a journal.” Mordecai explained. “Perhaps if you write down your thoughts, you’ll be less tempted to drift off in class, hm?”
He smiled teasingly, and Misty had to laugh at herself.
“Yes, thank you.” she said. “I’ll try my best.”
“I suppose that will have to do. Now get on with you, I’m sure you have things you’d rather be doing than talking to an old geezer like me.”
“Thank you again!” Misty shouted as she exited.
A silly grin covered her face, but she didn’t care. She was elated with her gift. The book was plain, but soon she would fill it with the most beautiful imaginings. And moreover, it was a gift from Mordecai. Misty thought the world of her teacher. He was wise and kind, almost like a father to her. It meant so much that he thought well of her. Misty arrived in her tiny hovel of a room and sat on her bed. It wasn’t the best place for writing, but there was little other furniture in the room- a chair, a bed stand. The room had formerly belonged to a servant, who would have had no need for such a thing as a writing desk. Misty supposed that she could have stayed in the library, but she wanted to write in privacy. She considered herself lucky to have her own room. Not that the library was much disturbed, but she felt somehow safer here. Now the only thing left was to decide what to write. This should’ve been a simple task. Misty’s head was full of wonderful stories. But it was harder than it seemed. Books were precious resources, and Misty was determined not to waste hers. So she paced the room. She sat down again. She wrapped her blanket around her shoulders. She stood again. All the while agonizing over which idea was best. Two hours passed, and she still had nothing written.
At last, she decided upon the story of the lost princess and her handsome knight. The plot was interesting but not convoluted, the characters strong but not unbelievable. Most importantly, it was just realistic enough to be believable, and just fantastic enough to be romantic. She wrote slowly, taking special care not to make any mistakes. It was gratifying to see the letters curl and the words take shape beneath her pen. And as the ink dried on the pages, the story took on a new power. It took on a life of its own under Misty’s guidance and became more real than it had ever been when she had only imagined it. It was entrancing. Misty poured all of her concentration into the little book, totally unaware of time. When finally she did look up, she found that the sky outside her little window was growing dark. And all at once, the loneliness that had been lurking inside her all day surfaced with full force. Now that her fantastic story was done, reality hit her hard. It wasn’t her life of obscurity that bothered her so much. Status was wonderful, but Misty didn’t need it. She would be happy, she thought, if only she belonged somewhere.
As it was, she had no place. She wasn’t one of the royal family; to them, she was completely insignificant. And she didn’t work for her keep as the servants did. Misty knew they resented this. When she spoke to them, their responses were cold and abrupt. And if she ever tried to help with the chores, they complained of her sloppy work with increasing irritation, until finally they shooed her off, complaining that she was in the way. It seemed that Misty spent most of her life being “in the way”. She had no role to perform, no duty to fulfill. She was nothing but a burden to those around her. And what did the future hold? What would happen to her after she finished her schooling? Would she be cast out, with no skills to find work? Or would she spend the rest of her days in the castle, living a life without purpose, dependent on others who didn’t want her? How dull that would be! Most of the time, she could avoid these gloomy thoughts, but they weighed on her heart nonetheless. The future was always approaching; she couldn’t avoid it forever.
Life would have been brighter, Misty thought, had her mother lived. She was only two when her mother died, but she remembered a gentle smile and a soft voice. Misty had been adopted, but she knew her mother had been a kind woman. Everyone said so. Surely she would have been provided some place in the court, even if she was not fully accepted by the royal family. And even if this weren’t true, she wouldn’t have minded so much if she had a mother who cared for her. Belonging in the world wouldn’t have mattered so much if she could find acceptance in a mother’s love. Misty of course had people who cared about her, but it wasn’t the same. A mother loved her child unconditionally; she was someone to confide it, someone who could comfort and give guidance. Her child belonged to her, and her to her child. Misty wondered what that felt like. Sometimes she tried to imagine what her life would be like now if her mother had lived. But she had died before Misty got a chance to really know her.
If only . . . but no, that was a horrible thing to think. She didn’t want to feel that way. Besides, there was no use wishing for what could never be. The past couldn’t be undone But . . . it was a persistent thought. Misty still struggled with it occasionally. Sometimes she couldn’t help it, guilty though it made her feel. She had to be careful not to dwell on it when it arose. Luckily, Anna came in just then to announce dinner, and Misty was able to put her dour thoughts out of mind.
Not that she was looking forward to dinner much. Usually, she enjoyed it, but lately, it had been such a bore. Probably because Ash had stopped eating with her. He always ate with his father and brother, but he usually joined Misty afterward. Anna’s cooking was much better than anything his father’s chefs could make, he said, and much more filling. It amused Misty that he preferred peasant food to the king’s rich dinners, and that he had such a huge appetite. She liked to tease him about it. But really, she was pleased that Ash enjoyed her company. She enjoyed his too. He was usually so cheerful and optimistic, and it was infectious. Misty always felt happy after talking with him. But lately . . . lately he had been so somber. He seemed all the time to be thinking of some great problem. Ash had hardly spoken to her these past few days. It was very uncharacteristic of him. But Misty supposed that he was still upset about his brother, Philip. It must have been an awful shock for him. Ash loved everyone he met, and for one of his own family to hate him must be terrible. And Misty suspected that he also felt some guilt. It wasn’t his fault at all, of course, but it would be just like him. She could feel his hurt, and she felt sorry for him. It upset her to see her friend so distressed. She missed him. She wanted to talk to him again. Especially now.
But, Misty thought, even if Ash had been there, this was one thing she could never talk about with him. What would a prince understand about not belonging? Everyone loved him. He had a family and a place and a future to look forward to. No, it would be useless to try to explain her woes to him.
When Misty entered the kitchen, she was almost overcome by the stifling air. Anna had come in ahead of her and was sweating over a pot of stew.
“There you are.” she said when she saw Misty. She ladled some of the stuff into a wooden bowl. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”
Misty thanked Anna as she handed the bowl to her and turned to go back to her room. She hadn’t gone two steps when she bumped right into Daniel, spilling the contents of the bowl all over his white tunic.
“Misty!” Anna cried. “Look what you’ve done!”
Misty blushed scarlet.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I was being careless!” she said, bending over to scrape up the remains.
But Daniel was too good-natured to be angry. He just laughed as he wiped the stew away.
“That’s all right. I shouldn’t have crept up on you like that. Here, let me help you clean it up.”
He grabbed a couple of rags from the counter and knelt down beside Misty, handing her one. The two of them wiped the floor scrupulously until it was clean.
“Thank you, Daniel.” Misty said. “But are you sure you’re not angry?”
“Not at all! In fact, it’s worth getting covered in stew if I get to see you.”
Misty giggled as Daniel filled two more bowls.
“Why don’t you come eat with me in the garden? It’s very pleasant out.” He said as he gave her one.
Misty happily agreed. It was much better than eating alone in her room. She needed the company.
The atmosphere of the garden was a nice contrast to the hot, humid kitchen. There was a cool breeze blowing up from the sea, and the sky was purple and dotted with early stars. The crickets were just beginning their nightly chorus. Misty surveyed the garden, remembering how it had looked before Daniel had come. It had been dead- nothing but dry, withered brown stalks and brittle branches. The only green had come from the weeds that covered the ground. But Daniel had brought the garden to life. Now the trees were lush with leaves and blossoms, and the flowers bloomed with so many vivid colors- pinks, blues, yellows- every color Misty could name. She couldn’t imagine how he had brought life from such barren soil. Even the garden walls were covered with flowering vines. In the twilight, the flowers’ bright colors were subdued. Their soft scent mingled with the salty sea breeze. Sitting there in the evening light, Misty was overwhelmed by a strange feeling. The scene was so surreal, almost otherworldly. The violet sky, the verdant garden, the intoxicating scent in the air- things familiar in the daylight were made mysterious and wonderful by the twilight. She was suddenly aware of everything- no sound or sight escaped her awakened senses. Everything was alive, she was alive. She was young, and things were just beginning for her. In this golden moment, Misty was able to leave her worries far below as she floated above the earth. It was ecstacy.
“It’s beautiful. It’s almost . . . magical.” She said, feeling a bit foolish.
But Daniel agreed with her.
“Isn’t it?” He replied. “This has always been my favorite time of day.”
Then they were silent for fear of breaking the spell. And it wasn’t broken. But soon it changed. It was getting darker and colder, and the blissful mood faded to melancholy. It was a sad but intense feeling- strangely despairing and enrapturing all at once. Misty didn’t fight it. She indulged her loneliness- let go and allowed it to pull her under. She let the strange emotions overflow in a pensive sigh. Daniel did n’t fail to notice her change in mood.
“Is there something wrong?” he asked.
Misty considered for a moment before answering, wondering if Daniel would understand. He was as much a foreigner as she was, she realized. He had been taken from his home against his will and dropped in this isolated place. Surely he was familiar with loneliness, too. Misty decided to trust him.
“Daniel,” she began, “do you ever feel alone?”
“Alone?”
“Yes. Like you don’t . . . belong here?”
“Not at all,” came Daniel’s reply, “I feel right at home here in the garden.”
“Oh.” Misty said, somewhat disappointed. But Daniel wasn’t finished.
“But if you mean in there,” he nodded toward the castle behind them, “then yes, I often feel out of place. Still . . .”
“‘Still’ what?”
“Still, I’m not sure that’s the same as being alone. It’s true that I’ve had a hard time adjusting to life here, with all its formalities and customs. But I haven’t felt alone in a long time. I have many friends here, the other servants, His Highness, and you, of course. I still don’t quite feel at home here, but I’m happy. But what about you, Misty? Are you lonely?”
Misty stared at the ground. She was starting to feel guilty for . . . not appreciating the friendships she did have, as Daniel did. But honestly, she really
did feel lonely. She couldn’t change that. So she answered truthfully.
“Yes, I do.”
Daniel smiled kindly at her.
“But Misty, you have many people who care about you. Anna, your teacher-”
“But Anna and Mordecai are old! I won’t have them forever! What will happen to me when they’re gone?”
“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Daniel said, trying not to laugh but failing.
“But it’s true, isn’t it? I don’t belong anywhere! I don’t have anyone who will stay with me!”
Daniel stopped smiling and looked pitifully at the girl.
“What about His Highness, Prince Ashton?” he said.
“Ash doesn’t need
me, not really.” Misty replied bitterly. “In a few years he’ll be officially crowned prince. He’ll leave me behind.”
“I’m sure that’s not true, Misty. I’ve watched the two of you for a while now, and I think you’re very important to Ash. He seems to trust you. When you have to separate, I think it will be just as hard for him as for you.”
“No, it wont. He has so many people surrounding him, important people. I have no one.”
“I think you underestimate His Highness.” Daniel said. “I’m sure I don’t know him as well as you do, Misty, but he doesn’t seem like one to care about status.”
“No, he isn’t,” Misty agreed, “but he’ll forget about me anyway. He won’t mean to, but he will. He’ll have new duties, a fiancé . . . I’m just a childhood friend. He won’t have time for me anymore.”
Daniel sighed in defeat, unable to convince Misty, and put his hand on her shoulder.
“Well, I still think you’re wrong about His Highness,” he said, “but if it makes you feel better, I’ll always be your friend.”
Misty was glad of the darkness that covered her blush.
All she could think to say was “Thank you, Daniel.”
But she was much happier than she was embarrassed. She wondered why it had never occurred to her to consider Daniel as her friend. He was such a kind, cheerful person, despite everything that had happened to him. He was wise and fair. Misty had always enjoyed talking to him, though this was the first time she had entrusted him with such important emotions. But tonight she had realized that she and Daniel shared a similar burden. Now it seemed obvious that they should be friends. And Misty decided that they would be ever after.
She returned to her room in a much lighter mood. Everything seemed a little brighter. She had a friend who would always be with her, and there was a little more hope for the future. Misty fell asleep that night feeling secure and content, accompanied by the soft, gentle crashing of waves. It was the first time in many days the sea had been so placid.
I love your description and in-depth characterization. Could I please be on the PM list?