The Dream Trials Read online
The Dream Trials
Copyright © 2023 by J. Houser
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For more information, visit: JHouserWrites.com
Cover design by J. Houser
Edited by Nia Quinn
ISBN:
978-1-957334-08-0 (ebook)
978-1-957334-07-3 (paperback)
First Edition: April 2023
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
The Story Behind The Story
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Epilogue
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Other books by J. Houser
The Story Behind The Story
A fellow author, Monroe Wildrose, put out a call to compile a fairy tale retellings anthology featuring midsize to plus-size young adult female protagonists. My first attempt at creating a short story for submission was a bit of a failure because I strayed pretty far from the source material. I still love it, but it’s more of an ‘inspired by’ story than a true retelling. (It can be read in ebook or paperback: The Hatanii Bride.)
This is my second go at a fairy tale retelling. I wanted something less common than the well-known Disney ones. Ironically, I decided to transform The Princess & the Pea as I lay unable to sleep one night. The Danish tale is surprisingly simplistic, which gave me room to expand on it. I latched on to the prince needing a wife, the rainfall, the twenty mattresses and the pain, and so much more, wrapping it up in dreamer magic and romance.
A shorter version of this retelling can be found in Femme Fairytales, an anthology with several other authors and their tales that fit the theme. I highly recommend grabbing it and enjoying them all!
I decided to publish this version separately with extra custom touches, including an entire bonus scene of Jonas’s coronation day. The original submission wasn’t able to include that scene due to a word count limitation.
If you’re looking for even more, Jonas’s bonus scenes are a real treat, and can be downloaded by newsletter subscribers! To access them and more, go to JHouserWrites.com
Book-related merch can also be purchased on my author website!
Chapter One
Maribel stood in the hatter’s shop, sorting through the available ribbons with her best friend, Celia. Maribel loved fashion, reading, long walks, and learning new things. She and Celia had planned for some time to update their accessories, and the hatter carried an astounding selection.
“I rather like this one,” Maribel said, draping a deep plum ribbon over her hand. It complemented her skin tone well.
Celia glanced at the ribbon, shrugging. “I think the buttercup yellow is more fetching.”
They may be best friends, but they were night and day. Celia was a tall, thin redhead, covered in freckles. Maribel’s complexion was darker, and she had always been shorter and heavier than Celia. They rarely agreed on fashion, but they’d grown up together, and shared other interests.
Maribel set the ribbon in her wicker shopping basket to consider. She’d never been a fan of yellow; Celia could choose it for herself if she so desired.
Humming, Maribel ran her finger along the edge of the cut ribbon bin. The precut odds and ends were cheaper, and her mother had reminded her to keep to a strict budget. Smiling, Maribel snatched up a pretty pea green one with generous length. It had scalloped edges. “Ooh, I like this.”
Celia plucked a brand-new spool of bright pink ribbon from a nearby shelf. “Green again? Why not something brighter like this?”
“What’s wrong with green?” It had always been Maribel’s favorite color. Celia joked that it had to be because the prince’s eyes were green, but in all her eighteen years, Maribel had never even met the man. He did have green eyes, but her favorite color hadn’t been determined by the physical attribute of a man she’d yet to meet.
“Variety,” Celia simply stated, depositing the pink spool into her own basket.
Maribel was undeterred. Fretting over someone else’s idea of fashion dos and don’ts seemed like a pretty foolish way to spend one’s time. She gathered the loose ribbon and put it with the purple one.
“Clouds are rolling in,” the hatter’s assistant said, staring out the shop windows into the open market.
A gong rang in the distance, and they all paused.
It can’t be. The gong resided at the castle, and was only used for special warnings and celebrations.
A heartbeat later, the gong rang again. Maribel and Celia shared a hesitant look. Please don’t let there be a third... There were no planned celebrations in the kingdom that day, but the people had been put on alert...
A third time, the gong rang through the air, then fell silent.
Maribel swallowed.
“She’s gone,” the hatter’s assistant whispered.
“She’s gone,” Maribel echoed, her chest tight.
Official word had been delivered across the kingdom some weeks ago, warning the citizens to be prepared for the death of the queen. She had been a kind and wise queen. In fact, Maribel had never heard a single person utter anything truly negative about the woman.
Solemnly, Celia set her basket down. “Come on, then.”
Maribel perched her basket on the ribbon bin, joining her. The hatter emerged from the back workroom, and followed the girls outside with his assistant. The entire open-air market was lined with citizens now. People filed out of shops and the church at the end of the town square.
It was tradition to pay their respects at the passing of royalty. When the gong rang again, everyone bowed their heads, silent for a full minute.
As the minute began, a rain droplet fell onto Maribel’s neck, to the side of her braid. There hadn’t even been clouds in the sky a half hour ago. She dutifully kept her head bowed, tears pricking at her eyes as she focused on the loss of their beloved queen.
Another drop moistened Maribel’s arm. And a couple more landed in unison on her back.
The gong rang a final time, and everyone stood straight.
The rain picked up quickly, and most people retreated inside.
Maribel and Celia didn’t, however. At least a dozen other maidens remained in the open market, also oddly entranced by the rainfall.
Even as the heavens pelted them, they smiled. The rain was warm, iridescent, and otherworldly. There was something almost magical about it. It was like a hug from the beloved queen herself, as a goodbye to her people.
Maribel wasn’t accustomed to standing in the open during showers, but it was a beautiful moment she wanted to drink in. She lifted her face to the sky, allowing the rain to spatter her skin, to soak into her hair and clothing, to drain down her neck and legs.
The storm was brief, but Maribel was grateful for the cleansing moment nature had given them during a time of mourning.
Celia giggled, wiping drenched hair out of her eyes. “We should finish our shopping.” She hooked her arm through Maribel’s, and they reentered the shop.
The hatter had returned to his work in the back. His assistant eyed the girls as they entered. “Why would you choose to get soaked to the bone like that?”
Maribel couldn’t stop smiling, despite having been on the brink of tears minutes earlier. “It was wonderful. Couldn’t you feel it?”
The assistant rolled their eyes, pointing to the window. “It was something only young maidens were foolish enough to do. Have your parents not taught you better?”
Pursing her lips, Maribel shot Celia a look. Neither of their parents would be pleased to have them waltz into their homes drenched.
“It was special rain,” Celia said, defiantly squaring her shoulders.
Heading back to their stool by the counter, the assistant huffed. “Then I hope your purchases make up for me having to mop the floor again today.”
Maribel glanced down, guilt washing over her. They’d already dripped all over, a nice puddle forming at their feet. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
She was supposed to stop by a few more shops, and hadn’t planned on spending her entire allowance at the hatter’s, but she generously loaded up her basket and paid for much more ribbon than she needed, emptying her coin pouch to make up for the hassle.
Soggy, the girls strolled toward their homes with their goods, marveling over the rain. “Have you ever felt something like that?” Celia asked.
“No, but it was lovely,” Maribel replied.
Celia sidestepped a puddle. “And now we wait to hear more about the prince taking the throne.” She grinned. “And taking a bride.”
Maribel couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose. It felt too early to talk about that. The king and queen had only been able to bear one child—a son—later in life. The king had died two years ago, and the prince was their only heir. The law required him to take the throne within thirty days of his mother’s death, and to pick a bride to
rule alongside him. Tradition dictated he choose a commoner in the kingdom.
“There are a lot of eligible girls,” Maribel said. “And I can’t imagine he’s excited to start sorting through them all while he’s grieving...”
A passing mother nodded at them, and her young boy hopped into a large puddle. The mother gasped. “Daniel!”
Maribel and Celia stifled laughs as the little boy apologized.
“You’re not even dreaming at all of living in the castle?” Celia asked, wringing her hair again.
They were both of an age to marry, and the prince was only a year older, but the chance of either of them being picked was slim to none. “The castle is probably drafty,” Maribel kidded. “And what if he chooses his queen based on stupid criteria? Like which maiden can swim the fastest?”
Celia laughed. “Swimming?”
“Yes. In a lake full of swamp beasts.” She grinned wickedly, and Celia laughed again.
“What if it’s about favorite colors? What if he hates green because he hates his own eyes?” Celia asked comically. “It would be quite the scandal.”
Maribel feigned amazement. “What if he chooses based on what he sees with his eyes?” She pinched Celia’s thin arm. “Maybe he doesn’t like scrawny girls...” She poked her own gut. “Or thick ones. Because if that’s the case, neither of us will be chosen.”
Her own eyes wide, Celia nodded. “Maybe I should start visiting the church more often to find a way to gain his favor... An answer to a prayer...”
Drawing herself back from their moment of levity, Maribel sighed. She had time to plan out her life, and it was futile to chase the unknown desires of a man in power whom she may never even meet. And...
“Let’s be respectful.” She straightened her posture. “I’m sure he’s taking things one day at a time. He’s probably not even worried about that until after the funeral.” Maribel raised an eyebrow in censure. “And Her Majesty deserves the respect of full mourning.”
Celia cocked her head to the side. “True. She’ll be missed.”
“Yes. No more talk about the prince and some random girl out there...”
After they arrived at their lane and parted ways, Maribel walked into her home and set down her bulging satchel of ribbons.
“Did you fall in the stream on your way back?” Maribel’s mother fussed over her on her return.
“I’m fine. It was just the rain.”
Her mother frowned, caressing her cheek. “We’ll all miss her.”
Maribel nodded. The kingdom had lost a treasure today.
“But why in the world did you stay out in the rain? It was only sprinkling during the short observance.”
Maribel couldn’t resist smiling again. “It was beautiful.”
Her mother raised her eyebrows high. “It was only rain. Go change before you catch a cold!”
Maribel did as told. Her mother fussed far too much. She was already eighteen; she didn’t need to be told how to take care of herself. As she stripped her clothes in her room, she mused over the rain, though. Only rain? It had been beautiful, like nothing Maribel had ever experienced.
When Maribel emerged from her room, her mother stood at the stove stirring split pea soup for their supper. She forced Maribel to sit at the kitchen table and guzzle piping hot bone broth as a precaution to ward off illness. Maribel’s younger sister and brother played in the backyard, only joining her and their mother when their father returned from work.
As she retired to bed early that evening, Maribel could have sworn another storm was brewing outside, as the soft pitter-patter of rain lulled her to sleep.
Chapter Two
“I love the smell of the earth after fresh rain. Don’t you?” Celia commented as they chatted in Maribel’s sitting room, sorting through their stash of old and new ribbons.
“You too?” Maribel’s mother asked, poking her head in. “Maybe I’m the mad one here...” She proceeded to stroll past the open door.
Celia looked to Maribel, confused.
“I said the same thing this morning, but she swears it didn’t rain last night...” And it was odd, because there had been no mud, no signs of rain come morning, but Maribel had heard it herself as she’d fallen asleep, and that fresh dewy smell had enlivened her as she rose.
Maribel stacked her ribbon by color and length. Almost half her collection was green; maybe she ought to try more colors after all.
“And then I had the wildest dream...” Celia continued minutes later, massaging her shoulder. “I was crossing under a bridge, and an old beggar asked me for help with carrying something.”
Stilling, Maribel listened. The dream was eerie, for she too had had a dream like that the night before.
Celia wrapped a long cream ribbon around her hand. “So, I helped the poor man, but gosh his bag was heavy! The strap of the bag dug into my shoulder. I know it was just a dream, but it felt so real.” She rubbed her shoulder again.
Wide eyed, Maribel stared at her. That had almost exactly been her same dream. She’d woken with a sore shoulder; it still ached. “That’s mad... I ... had a dream like that too.”
“Really?” Celia narrowed her eyes.
“Yes, but Mother said it was just my mattress.” Her father’s business had been doing poorly lately, and they couldn’t afford to replace the lumpy mattress anytime soon.
Brushing off the bizarre coincidence, Celia smiled. “Too weird.”
As Maribel went to bed that night, she felt around her mattress. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it wasn’t like it was made of rocks. Luckily, the soreness in her shoulder had eased around midday, and she was ready to put the odd shared dream behind her.
After blowing out her candle, she climbed under her quilt, ready for sleep to claim her. Rain sang her to sleep for the second night.
Maribel blinked. She stood in the middle of a busy cobblestone lane. “What the...” How had she gotten there? The midday sun beat down on her, the breeze nonexistent.
She glanced around, trying to piece it together. What did she even remember last? She ought to remember walking somewhere... Though no pain remained in her shoulder, she rubbed it. The dream. Could this be another dream? It was so vivid, so real, but her dream the previous night had also started abruptly.
Shoes clicked on the cobblestone, and mumbles of passersby surrounded her, though no one paid her any attention.
Maribel stopped a passing man. “Sir, uh, what day is it?”
“Tuesday, miss.” He gave her a single nod and continued walking.
She bit her lip. Tuesday? If her recollection was correct, she’d gone to bed Tuesday night, so this was perhaps a memory from hours before? But she’d spent the whole day with Celia, and hadn’t stepped foot in this lane...
Sharp pain stung her toe. “Ah!”
A little boy had randomly stomped on her foot.
“Thadeus!” a woman scolded. She turned to Maribel. “I’m so sorry. He can be unruly sometimes. Are you okay?”
Still in a great deal of pain, Maribel lied. “I’m fine. He’s just a little one.”
“Thank you,” the woman said, exasperated. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
Maribel clenched her teeth, tears pricking at her eyes. How had that small of a child inflicted so much pain? “I’m all right.”
The boy’s mother gave her an apologetic smile, then ran after him, stopping him from wreaking more havoc down the lane.
Blowing out a breath, Maribel stood on one leg. “I need something for my foot...” A cool stream to dip her aching toes in would do wonders.
The next thing she remembered was waking to morning sunlight pouring in through her windows.
She furrowed her brow. Huh... Her toe still throbbed. A lumpy mattress couldn’t be blamed for a sore toe, could it? She had to have kicked the wooden bed frame during the night, and it had inspired the dream... That was all—a perfectly reasonable explanation.
After making her bed, she approached the window. No signs of rain again, but that fresh scent filled her lungs. Had she hit herself on the head at some point?
A heartbeat later, a tap on the bedroom door claimed her attention. “Are you up, dear?” her mother asked.
Maribel drew a deep breath. “Yes, I’ll be right out.” It was the queen’s funeral service that day, and they would want to leave the house early to get a good place for the public observance. Maribel chose a forest green dress of a respectable length for the observance, tying her new pea green ribbon around her waist. The queen had loved bright colors, and had stated her people should reflect hope in their mourning.