Book 1

Start The dead of night is thought to be peaceful. The vast sky always displayed those speckled distant stars. Flickering wildly, like little fairies laughing. Winter nights were always so calming, the nice cold breeze would dance about each and every room. Yet, whenever I look upon the dead sky, I can see it for what it truly was. Lonely. The stars were never laughing, they were crying and yelling. No matter how hard they yelled and cried, they were never heard. No. Instead, they were watched and observed by all. Others enjoyed watching their yells, some even laughed at their misery.

Yells of pain and agony roar throughout the palace walls. Servants rush to hide praying for their lives to be spared. Inner palace walls trying to convince the king to stay with his queen. Beyond the queen yells as the contractions get closer and closer. The eldest prince, eyes deep blue that can be lost in, dark raven hair that falls slightly upon his brow. he holds his mother’s hands with a firm grip, letting her know he isn’t going anywhere. His younger brother, only 2 years younger, rushes to assist the midwives by gathering warm water and cloths. Both are mere reflections of their father’s image. “Mother, please hold on.” the eldest pleads as he removes the hair from her face with his other hand. “Father, you can’t leave her like this. The guards can handle them.” The youngest clasps the cloth with both of his wee little hands. Tears streamed down his face. Neither of the two has ever felt fear like this before. Nor should they have to. The king looks at his queen for the last time as he leaves the room. Ordering the guards to let no one in and no one out until he returns.

The red moon shined brightly upon the kingdom, this wintery night showed no signs of the sought-after calmness it would always bring. Rage and hatred shook beneath the world and submerged it in Fury. Knights parading hastily towards the gates. Led by their king. The commoner’s rage can be heard from within the stone walls. Outside, they stampede with blazing pitchforks and homemade weapons throughout the village, with no sympathy for the women or children who meet their blades. The village streets run red with the blood of both innocent and guilty.

Guards try to control their horses, slaying any of those who dare try to pass the gates leading toward the inner circle. Those on foot herd as many as they can to safety. Shielded knights blockade the entrance preventing any more from breaching.“Our king is here!” yell the Knights as they unsheath their swords ready for battle. One by one the commoners fall at the hands of the king and his brethren.

Back in the queen’s chambers, the final push has been made. The princess has been born. “Do not fade just yet your highness” the servant lays the babe gently upon her breast before she relays the information to those beyond the door. So small, and so calm. The queen signals to her boys to come close. “My children, I must go now to a place where you cannot follow. Protect each other until we meet again.” the eldest watches as the life in his mother’s eyes fades and her last tear rolls from her cheek.

“Is she ready?” a man’s voice breaks the silence that has engulfed the room.

“Aye, my lord. Keep her safe, as our kingdom depends on that wee babe.”