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yeah. been a while. but yeah. didnt have uch of a choice. summer, y'know?

anywho. please leve comment.
on with fic!!

Sad Eyes

People tell me that I shouldn’t believe in dreams.
I tell them that I don’t…not always.
They call me a fool.
I call them narrow-minded.
Then they walk away.
I always shrug after that. Everyone’s always like that, and I don’t care…

It’s not like I believe in all of my dreams, just a few. Sometimes, I find in them a solution for a tough problem. Other times, dreams are just anti-stressors. But once, there was a dream that changed my life. It was but a simple dream…it made me strong.
It was a strange dream, and it occurred in the strangest time. It was a time of great grief to me, for my mother had died only three months before. I was only a child then, and children do not let go of parents easily, and I was having a hard time letting go of my mother. But that dream helped me. It helped me get over my worst problem…It was all because of that dream…The dream of the sad-eyed prince….
I had two different points of views in that dream! I mean, how often does that happen? Only once to me; in that dream…I was myself in that dream, as well as some onlooker when I wasn’t around…it was strange…listen, and I shall tell you my story…

I remember waking up to my father telling me that our guests should be arriving any minute now, only to be interrupted by a soldier who told us that the guests were entering the castle. My father told me to get read and quickly went to the main hall. I remember getting ready, yet I did not wish to meet our guests. I did not wish to meet anyone. I wanted to be alone. Somehow, I knew that our guests were a King from some kingdom far away and his son, a prince who was no more than a year older than me. I had decided that no young prince would wish to spend time in there, so I hid in the library.
My vision then shifted. I was no longer myself, heading to the library, but an onlooker in my father’s court. Father was standing at the end of the hall, regally. Yet his eyes betrayed his face, for he was still grieving over Mother. I knew he was, he loved her so.
I remember looking around until I was able to see our guests. There was the king and his son the price. I could see the king clearly; he reminded me much of uncle Hector. Yet it was the prince who captured my attention. I was told many times that I resembled my father in many ways, and I knew it for a fact, for Father says that I am a younger version of him. Yet this prince…he had no semblance to his father whatsoever…I was also disappointed by our age difference. This price was at least two to three years older than me. It seemed as though the information I knew was incorrect…I became upset with Father, for he seemed to be the one who told me the wrong age difference…
They stood in front of Father, and Father proceeded in greeting them. I could not hear what the visiting King had said, yet it was apparent that he was introducing himself and his son. I heard my father introduce himself and then turn to introduce me, but I was not there. He seemed embarrassed…somewhat. I remember every word I heard since then. It’s a print in my memory that I will never forget…
“I’m sorry about this. My wife died three months back, and my son has yet to recover from it.” My father had said.
“Think nothing of it,” replied the King, “It must be very hard for you as well.”
“Father,” the prince spoke calmly, “May I go find him? I truly wish to meet him.”
The King laughed. “Don’t ask me son, as the Master of this castle for his permission.” The price turned and looked at my father.
“You can go right ahead,” Father said kindly, “Do you want a guide?”
“No, thank you,” the price answered, “I would rather try to find him myself.” And with that, he was off.
My vision quickly shifted back to me. I was now entering the library. I quickly chose a place to hide, deciding that I should keep the door in my sight in the case of someone coming to look for me.
My vision shifted again. It followed the young prince around the castle hallways, into and out of the courtyard, to the castle grounds, up a long staircase, and getting lost. It gave me enough time to observe him. I was caught by his strangeness. He was different from everyone…he stood out. He was calm and confident. He was kind to everyone. He spoke in a low, calm voice that betrayed no emotions. He was a child with a mind of an adult. His looks were no better either. He kept his hair long…he had blue hair. I would have aghast if I had that hair color or style, for I could not stand for anything getting in my way. Yet he seemed to have a habit of putting his hair out of his eyes…it made him older. Everything about him made him older. He walked confidently, always keeping his eyes and ears open for anything. It was ironic I knew that, for I could not see his face. He felt no fear, even when he had gotten himself lost. He simply kept checking every door he came across, and soon enough, he found the library.
My vision then shifted back to me, and with his back to me, I saw the prince enter the library. He seemed beyond awed from the size of the library. I remember distinctly hearing, “So many books!” He started wandering the library, just looking around at first. Then he became serious—he was looking for something, or someone, and I believe that he was looking for me. We were both on the move, him looking around and me following him. I believe that he was aware of that, for he kept looking over his shoulder. At times, he would stop suddenly, and I would almost run into him.
After a wild goose chase twice around the library, the prince seemed to give up. He went over to a shelf of books at the west part of the library. I was surprised: he was at the heart of the books of magic! He seemed to be truthfully considering of reading one of the books, as he was reading the books’ spines. Finally, he decided upon a thick, heavy, red book, and seated himself on a long table that was in the center of the library.
I remember being very curious about the prince. I could not understand why he would choose to read a book rather than keep on looking for me. I could not figure out why he wanted to read to read a thick, heavy book. Why would a prince choose to read a book? Were his studies not enough boredom? I wanted answers.
I approached the prince from the opposite end of the table, and climbed it. I walked on the table al the way to where he was sitting, yet he did not seem to notice my arrival.
“Who are you?” I demanded, “Why are you here? Why are you reading a book? Isn’t it boring?”
He did not seem to hear me. He just kept on reading.
“Hey!” I yelled, “Answer me!”
The price finally reacted. He sighed, carefully memorizing the page number before closing the book. He looked at me, smiled an said, “I’m sorry. I did not wish to stop in mid-sentence. I am the visiting prince; are you the prince of this kingdom?”
I could not answer. I could not even breathe. I was looking at his face—at his eyes. He has a kind, soft smile on his face, but his eyes. I could not stop looking at his eyes. He was a young prince; he had faced no evils from the world. Yet he had the saddest eyes. He was looking at me with eyes filled with absolute, never ending sadness. I felt like a fool. This prince, he had seen all of the harsh realities of the world. He may not have had to face them, but he knew what they were, and where they were hiding. While all I did was see death, and he had left an ever lasting effect on me. This prince must have seen death many times, yet he was able to go on. While I was stuck in the past, he had found the strength to walk away. I started to cry. I cried loudly, and all the while the prince stared at me with his sad, kind smile and those eyes…the eyes that were filled with eternal sadness. No wonder he was so mature. It all made sense…
I vaguely remember both or our parents entering the library. My father held me, trying to comfort me, while his father was accusing him of something the prince has not done. Yet all the while, that prince was smiling, looking at the ground with those sad eyes, and I wondered how long it would take the ground to collapse under such a look.

My father then woke me. He had shaken me awake, for I was crying very loudly, and I had scared the maids. I never cried after that. Father was shocked to see how sudden I have stopped grieving. How could I not? The prince had done so much faster than I have. He has learned to live with it…
Time passed, and I found myself always looking up to the prince. Every time I thought of mother, I thought of him. Every time there was a problem, I would think of what he would do. Every time I would read a book, I would never stop in mid sentence. At first, father was surprised by the sudden change. It took him long to get used to it, for he knew not the cause of the change. I never told him; I never told anyone about the sad-eyed prince. I kept that knowledge to myself. I hoped and prayed that I would see him again in my dreams, to ask him his name…I never saw him again, and I did not believe him to be a real, living person.
After ten years, I had received a letter to join the famous Super Smash Brothers. I accepted.
I had gotten lost in the hallways, trying to reach my room there, but I felt not upset. A little confused, perhaps, but not upset.
I had wandered and found myself at the library…the scene was starting to become familiar…
I walked in, and saw a young man sitting on a couch, reading thick heavy book. The scene was now too familiar…
I asked the man if he would kindly point me the way toward the dorms, buy he did not reply. I asked again, becoming impatient…
He finally reacted; he sighed and closed his book. He looked directly at me, smiling a soft, kind, and sad smile, “I’m sorry, but I did not wish to stop in mid sentence. You must be a newcomer. My name is Marth, what’s yours?”
And finally, I knew the name of the sad-eyed prince…it surprised neither of us when I started to cry, for he knew who I was long before he had stopped reading to answer me.
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lovely, isnt it? heart heart
R&R pplz!