Ivalynn stroked once more her father’s brow. His face had turned a subtle gray and his features were softened. As he struggled to take another breath, his mouth quivered with pain.
“Daughter.” A weak cough made the man double over in agony. Ivalynn lifted the goblet of liquid to his lips, tipping it till his throat was moistened. “Ivalynn, you must- you must lead… well.” His broken words were soaked in earnestly by the young woman now left to rule the great land alone. “The people- they are in… need of a strong monarch- such as you…” His face contorted, striving to keep his discomfort hidden from his child. “And dear Ivalynn… should anything h-happen to… you… there is another… y-your s-sibling… they have green eyes…” Ivalynn sat back in her chair in shock. Another royal? The king’s face shook in an effort to keep breathing. “Lord Gorahm… d- don’t t… ” Ivalynn’s breath caught in her throat as her father’s face blanched. Her red mouth sought the words to say, “f-father?” His green eyes were covered with a thin glaze. Ivalynn clutched his hand, it was cold. A single tear dropped onto his still smooth face before the physician stepped up behind her and pulled her away from the king’s body. With one last fleeting glance at her beloved father, Ivalynn turned, and hardening her face, became the new queen of Corsiva.

The day of the coronation was not ideal. A gray cloud enveloped the entire afternoon sky, and mist hung in the air. A dull curiosity settled on the kingdom as they slowly made their way to the barren castle entrance. At a quarter to twelve, Ivalynn clasped the black and silver scepter of her country and accepted the dark, delicate circlet made to sit on her brow. A weak cheer rose from half of the audience congregated in the room of coronation. Receiving a lifted eyebrow from the bishop, Ivalynn strode out into the banquet hall and swept her silver-trimmed, black gown behind her.
The unnerving silence that materialized at the feast made the spring air feel even colder than it was. The ashen faces of the commoners sitting nearby pierced into Ivalynn’s heart. Each and every peasant stared the new queen directly in the eyes and seemed to look right through her. At her own table, monarchs and royals from afar sat stiffly in their chairs, each one wearing the true colors of Corsiva, black and silver. Behind the leaden, cold faces of each member in the hall, an enchanting aura crystalized the room.
“Your majesty?” Ivalynn turned towards the familiar, playful voice. Entering the banquet hall was a young man dressed in a dirty tunic and tall, leather boots. Ivalynn’s closest friend, Avrik, sauntered over to her side and with a teasing smile asked, “Am I too late for the food?” A few quiet whispers circled through the room. Shaking her head, Ivalynn pointed to his assigned seat which was two over from hers. Avrik studied it and complained,
“I don’t even get to sit next to you?”
“I suppose not.”
“Oh. Well, we can fix that.” Quickly, Avrik switched his place-card with that of the stuffy duke seated next to Ivalynn. “Sir, if you don’t mind, I am going to have to ask you to move to your own chair.” With a calm expression, the lad helped the shocked old man out of his chair and into the one next to it. The entire room sat in a surprised silence until the formal duke exclaimed, “Why, what a charming young man!” Many laughed and the hall filled with chatter. Ivalynn studied the people who had just previously been deathly silent.
“Ivalynn?” The queen turned at a gentle nudge from her best friend. “I’m sorry. Your majesty? Queen Ivalynn?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Fine. How was the coronation?”
“What do you mean? Weren’t you there?” Ivalynn furrowed her brow in indignation as Avrik tried to wipe away the sheepish look on his face. “Where were you then?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, and besides, I am the queen.”
“I was just out in the woods. Hunting.”
“No you weren’t. You wouldn’t go hunt on my coronation.”
“Apparently I would.” Avrik’s youthful face hardened with suppressed irritation.
“Please stop lying to me, Avrik. Where were you?”
“Why is it my business to tell you?”
“Because I am the queen!” Ivalynn blushed as she realized she was no longer in her black throne, but standing, back straight, chin high, a smoldering ember in her eye. The banquet hall dropped to a confused emptiness of conversation. Lifting her heavy, silver and black mantle, Ivalynn turned and exited the room, striving to retain her dignity. The room had grown so noiseless that even Ivalynn’s dainty footsteps echoed dismally.

“Lord Gorahm, don’t t…” Ivalynn repeated her father’s last words over and over. Until right now in her lavishly decorated chamber, she had forgotten the king’s warning, or at least, what seemed like a warning. She paced back and forth between the four-poster bed and mahogany vanity table trying to decode what he was going to say next. Each time her foot pressed into the gray plush carpet, every time her lungs grasped for more air, every time the lavender shroud she had donned grazed the wood of the bed, the air seemed to tremble with an alarm. A murmur of advice to be cautious reached into Ivalynn’s head as she drew near to the window. Lifting a white hand, the queen touched the frosted glass surrounded by black trim. The panes were varnished with ice and the frozen, bitter winter advanced up Ivalynn’s arm before penetrating her heart with a hostile fear. The shiver that ran up the ruler’s back was unimaginably terrifying and immediately, Ivalynn knew what the next words out of her late father’s mouth were going to be.
“Don’t trust him.” Ivalynn’s brow narrowed, the wise member of the court had always seemed trustworthy enough, was he not one of her father’s close personal advisors? She turned away from the glass, pulling her wrap closer around her. Large snowflakes started to fall outside. As each step brought her nearer to her chamber door, her heart grew more and more uncertain. The hair on the back of her neck bristled and Ivalynn straightened her back, feeling the unmistakable impression of someone watching her. As much as her brain screeched for her to run, as much as her lungs panted to scream, Ivalynn paused. Halting just as she touched the door handle, she stiffly circled around to face her room. Every ounce of her was starving to be out of this, but she was too petrified to move. Ivalynn froze, her green eyes scanning every inch of the chamber. Everything seemed to be in its usual position until her sight fell on the black drapes that hung near the window and engulfed half the room in shadows. Clutching the doorknob tighter, she said in a thin and shaking voice,
“What do you want?” As she had dreaded, a man emerged from the blackness near the corner and slowly advanced nearer to her. It was at this point that Ivalynn could not take it any longer. Her breath failed to exit her body and as she fell to the floor in a dead faint, the man’s answer to her question extended into her mind as all else faded…
“You.”

~*~

Tall, stone walls surrounded the pale courtyard of Corsiva. There were no plants growing in the rock urns and no water springing from the cold fountains. The crowds had wandered back to their dirty makeshift shacks and the royal ambassadors had retired to their lavish rooms. The kingdom sat still and noiseless; a mild, crisp wind whistling through the eaves of what bare trees there were. A dark shadow surrounded the land, blanketing everything in its reach.
“Torrian.” A voice echoed from the shade of the courtyard. The figure of a man emerged and stood in wait. Presently, there came another man standing in front of him, this one larger and stronger. The smaller figure repeated,
“Torrian, did you complete your mission?”
“Yes.”
“And you deposited her where?”
“Mountain.”
“And you made sure she did not know who you were?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Here is your pay.” Without any more words, the big man took the sack of coins offered him and lumbered away.

Ice crystals shot through the air, piercing the wind with shrieks of vengeance, anger coursing through the very veins of frost that hung on the peak of the mountain. Snow whipped and whirled, hands that groped for a body to clutch. The blizzard tore through the gray sky, pausing to consider one, struggling through the deep snow. The fire that burned in the very soul of the woman was enough to melt the cold outside.
Ivalynn scoffed in anger the bitter wind, she cursed the ice that hindered her from running. Corsiva was in danger, and it was her job to protect it. Despite the fact that she was no doubt miles from her homeland with no way to get sustenance or shelter, she forced her frozen feet through the heavy, white drifts. The sky was a deep gray and Ivalynn could barely see where she was going, yet she knew it was in the right direction: the direction that led back to her home, her people.
Hours passed, the sky was slowly becoming a bit of a lighter gray, though it was still thickly matted with fog. Ivalynn was fighting against herself to keep her eyes open. Her entire being was frosted over, and she was numb with the cold. Stumbling through the small mounds of ice and slush, she saw smoke growing ever closer as she tripped along. Ivalynn stifled the urge to cry out, to call for something, someone. Finally, a cabin came into sight. Deep, thick smoke curled out of the chimney and warm light glowed from inside. A crystalized smile edged onto Ivalynn’s face as she managed to knock feebly on the door. There was no answer. She rapped on the wood again, harder. Desperate, she tried to open the handle. It turned easily and she fell into a warm, small cottage. There was nobody in sight, yet a bowl of hot stew sat steaming on a table warming by a big fire.
“H- hello?” Ivalynn’s teeth chattered with cold. She stiffly moved to the table where an ancient-looking parchment sat next to the dish. Picking it up with sore hands, she whispered the message quietly to herself.
If you read this script,
You stand inside,
A cabin small,
You try to hide.
What from,
We ask not.
Where to,
We ask not.
We offer only sanctuary,
A place for the tired,
Eat and sleep till ready…
And please put out the fire.

Ivalynn was too exhausted to consider if this was safe. She immediately ate the food, trying to make it last as long as possible. The bed in the corner was already warm, and as soon as she crawled underneath the down comforters she lost all consciousness of the world around her.

The skinny girl wove her way in and out of all the people, her hands slightly in front of her. Mumbling to herself, she came to a stop in the front of the crowds. She bounced on her toes in anticipation, for it was time to read another royal announcement. She hoped it was going to be another feast, she didn’t know food could taste so good!
“Attention! Loyal citizens of Corsiva, a royal proclamation is being made!” The thick man sniffed and pushed his pince-nez closer to his piggish eyes. “Ah-hem! As of this early morning, the new Queen Ivalynn was reported missing. I have been informed that thorough searches have been made. Unfortunately, Queen Ivalynn is not to be found, and she is presumed… dead.” The girl furrowed her brow.
“We all know that there are no more relatives of the queen in Corsiva, but one loyal man has stepped up. Lord Gorahm, trusted advisor of the king.” At this point, one man from the crowd spoke. The girl heard someone behind her say that he was the Queen Ivalynn’s best friend, Avrik.
“How can you just say she is dead and move on like it never happened? Where have you looked? Who organized these searches?” He stepped closer to the flustered announcer, demanding an answer. The paunchy man started to sweat, despite the cold weather and tried to stutter out a response when a voice rang out from behind him,
“It was I.” The reply came from a thin man wearing expensive clothes. Lord Gorahm, as it was he, cocked an eyebrow at the fuming young lad and toyed with his silver beard. “I organized search parties in the darkest of night and sent them out. They returned from the four corners of the land this early afternoon, with no sign of the queen.”
“But Lord Gorahm, how do you know how far she went? She could be right outside where your men checked!”
“Boy, it is obvious that a woman cannot travel at such a fast pace in less than three hours! Even if she was riding the fastest stallion in all of Corsiva’s military! She is dead. Now if you will excuse me, I have a coronation to prepare for.” Lord Gorahm puffed up his chest and glared at Avrik before walking away. The rest of the congregation followed suit by returning to their own homes. As everybody cleared out, Avrik looked down, surprised by a gentle touch upon his arm. A young girl of about twelve stood in front of him.
“It’s okay, Mister.” The girl stared at him intensely. Her cloudy green eyes pierced him with a faint sort of recognition.
“Thank you little girl.” Avrik patted the yellow-haired kid on the head.
“Will there be food when they bury the queen?” The child’s innocent question brought a small light to Avrik’s eyes and he narrowed his brow.
“Funeral… they didn’t find her… Lord Gorahm has no proof…” Avrik looked at the girl and thanked her profusely before sprinting off.

Lord Gorahm’s words were still ringing harshly in Avrik’s head.
“Don’t you see, stupid boy?! Your questions are all for waste! All of the commoners, just like you, obviously don’t understand that a woman cannot rule a country and I can.”
“How do you know she can’t rule a country? She only had a few hours before she was…”
“Was what? Killed? Removed from office? Left isolated on a freezing mountain alone? Yes, yes, and yes! Don’t look at me like that! I would have thought that a smart lad like you could have figured it out sooner.”
“You… you killed her? Left her on a mountain? Why? How?”
It was at this point that Avrik had felt a crushing blow delivered to the side of his head and blood running through his hair. Now, his red-stained face was glowering with pure hatred as he sat furious in the dungeon. The door to his cell creaked open and seeing that it was the pompous lord, Avrik yanked at the chains restraining him to the wall, an un-humanistic growl rolling out of his mouth.
“Don’t bother, those chains are made of iron and they won’t break.” The calm tone at which Lord Gorahm spoke was hugely irritating to Avrik and his whole being burned with rage.
“I am sorry I had to put you in this nasty room, but I make it a point to dispose of anyone who stands in my way. So as you can see, I had to “isolate” you too, as I have started calling it.”
Avrik muttered under his breath, “Isolated, just like Ivalynn…”
“Yes, just like your sweet little friend. Isolated, separated from others. All others.” Lord Gorahm shot him a smirk and exited the dungeon with a wink.
Avrik stared after him in anger, pulling on his restraints until his wrists were red and bruised. He yelled, shouting wrath after the lord who had landed him in this position before falling limp. There was no use, Avrik was isolated, and he would be forever.

~*~

The yellow-orange globe of heat pushed its way in between rocks, through trees, and around dripping piles of snow. For the first time in days, the sun shone brightly on Corsiva, seeming to issue in a new beginning for the citizens below the mountain. All the peasants were busy at their work, striving to please a new and already powerful king, Gorahm. The monarch was lounging in his throne, thinking for the first time in the two days since his coronation about the girl he had exterminated. A seed of uncertainty was burrowing its way deeper in Gorahm’s mind, sprouting roots and gaining ground. He was doubting whether or not Ivalynn was really dead…

The leaping, amber flames sizzled when a bucketful of clear, white snow was dumped on top of it. The black coals died out and lost their flare as silver droplets quenched the flame they carried. A dull thud signified that the tin pail had been replaced to its proper position next to the fire. The sound was immediately followed by the empty silence of a vacant cabin.
Outside, the path was visible, the snow was percolating into the ground and the slush left in the middle of the muddy road was soon gone as well. The fog had lifted from the low valley at the foot of the mountain and not more than a few miles away, hidden by the tall trees and only barely evident was a gate guarding the castle of Corsiva.
By the time the evening rolled around, carrying with it the fading sun and a quiet heat that melted the thick ice coating the cobblestones, Ivalynn was fully awake, energized, and pounding on the gate of her kingdom. The gatekeeper was astonished. Here before him stood the young woman said to be frozen in the snow and she was staring at him quite expectantly. He succeeded in opening the entrance with a loud creak and stared as she walked past him coolly. With each proud, dignified step she took, more townsfolks gazed at her in astonishment. Only when she reached the castle did she speak. Her voice made the guards jump in wonder and shake their heads in confusion.
“Open the door, please.” None of the men moved until one young soldier voiced his opinion.
“Why should we? How do we know you aren’t some sort of ghost?”
“Please. Do I look like a ghost?”
“Well, no… but you see…”
“Open the door, please.”
“But your majesty- er, I mean, uh-“
“Must I repeat myself again? I am the queen! Open the door!”
“Well, you aren’t really the queen anymore…”
“What do you mean?” Ivalynn’s face tightened in expectation. “Who has taken my kingdom?”
“L-lord Gorahm, ma’am. Maybe you have heard of-“
“Open the door right now.” Her voice was hardened and the guards took the hint, pushing open the double doors. She entered her own castle and as she quickened her step and made her way past the gawking passersby, resented ever leaving the feast and going to her room. None of this would have happened if she had simply believed that Avrik was out hunting. All of this, every ounce of this mess, was her fault. 
Ivalynn walked confidently up to the throne room and, placing her hands on the door, pushed with all her strength. They swung open with a bang, making Lord Gorahm leap in surprise. Ivalynn stared at her mutineer and said in a smoldering tone,
“Get off of my throne.”

Lord Gorahm had thought he was permanently King Gorahm. And for all he cared, he still was. No mere girl would hinder his chance to rule, his chance for power. So, when the door slammed open loudly, the young woman he thought dead standing before him, he was shocked. She looked him straight in the eye and articulated five distinct words, “Get off of my throne.”
A hint of mirth tickled the back of Gorahm’s throat. Then, he laughed. Yet it was not a youthful, happy sound. It was one that made Ivalynn furrow her brow in confusion. He stood and dramatically motioned to the tall, black seat.
“Here is your chair. Now, is that all you want or might I assist you further?” His voice was cold and hard.
“Yes, actually,” Ivalynn walked closer to the tall figure. “I have come to reclaim my kingdom.”
“That, you must realize, my dear, is practically impossible. Perhaps you have heard the childish saying, ‘finder’s keepers’? That’s right, you are dead. You cannot simply come back and expect to receive what I have rightly and honestly taken from you.” Gorahm stalked down the steps of the dais and came to stand directly in front of Ivalynn. “Now, I would love to continue this conversation, but it is my supper-time. Perhaps you would care to join me?” Gorahm led a completely silent Ivalynn down the corridor to the dining hall. The girl clamped her jaw shut, tight. She resisted the urge to step ahead of him and lead the way to the feast table. He steered her as if she had never been in this place at all.
As they reached the large table, already laden with food, Ivalynn began to wonder about Avrik. He had not shown his face yet. The meal began, Ivalynn did not touch any of the food, but continued to rack her brain for a plan, a plot to get Gorahm away from the throne and the land he would harm.
“Excuse me,” Ivalynn stood from her seat and Gorahm nodded towards the door. She exited leisurely and made her way down the hall to the nearest lavatory. Guards made to follow after her, but Gorahm stopped them saying,
“No need to follow her. She wouldn’t run, it’s this land she is trying to save, not abandon.”

Avrik slumped, the deep, dank darkness not only surrounded him, but filled him. All of this mess was his fault. Had he not been two minutes late to the coronation, he would have been let in. Then Ivalynn wouldn’t have been angry at him, then she would still be here, and he, Avrik, would not be stuck in the frozen jail cell that he sat in now. If only he had-
The clanging of metal upon metal startled the young man out of his thoughts. He turned his face to the door of his cell and stared in astonishment. Shaking his head he moaned,
“Now I’m hallucinating!” The image of his best friend stood at his cell door.
The ghost-like girl spoke in a very realistic fashion.  “No, you’re not. Avrik, I’m real. I’m alive.”
“But how could you? You’re… dead. You’ve been gone for days!” He still gazed at Ivalynn disbelievingly.  Avoiding his questions, Ivalynn continued. “We need a plan, and step one is getting you out of here.” With that, she turned the iron key in the lock until the metal grated on each other. The door swung open and she entered, releasing Avrik’s bonds. He fell to the floor and groaned, massaging his wrists.
“We need to start moving, now. The only way to stop Gorahm is to use a force greater than his, and we can gain that in numbers.” As they exited the dungeon, Ivalynn told him of his instructions. “You go to the east and warn those people, gather all that will come, raise an army. I will do the same in the west of the castle.” Avrik nodded and turned down the hall, while Ivalynn stole out to the piazza where she could then exit to find her way to the peasant’s houses.
Turning the corner, Ivalynn ran into an obstacle. Slipping on the icy ground, she gasped for the breath that had gotten stolen from her lungs. A hand grabbed her in a vise-like grip and shoved her against the rock wall. Lights appeared close by as torches were lit. Ivalynn tried to pull away from the man gripping her arm, but it was useless.
“Stop struggling, foolish child.” The voice came from straight in front of Ivalynn and Lord Gorahm stepped forward. “You love to think that you are smart,” he drew close to the girl and she turned her face away from him. “You think you can take my throne, my kingdom.”
“Yes, and that is exactly what I intend – “
“Silence!” Lord Gorahm started speaking quicker now, his lazy drawl vanished and was replaced by curt words. He pulled a dagger out of his belt and Ivalynn shrunk away in fear. “I tried to get rid of you once, letting you freeze while you were asleep. Your second death might not be so painless.” Lord Gorahm rested his dagger in the flame of a nearby torch, heating it till it burned red. He brought it close to Ivalynn’s face where her hair frizzled back and became singed. She fought to keep calm with the burning weapon nearly touching her.
“You can never be king, Gorahm.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“I have a sibling. There is another royal in this land who will rule.” The knife slide away from her head slightly at this. Lord Gorahm stared in confusion.
At this exact minute, a whistling sound filled the air, a few of the soldiers standing by turned to see at where it might be coming from. The first one to find out was Lord Gorahm. A gasp from him brought all eyes back to his face. An arrow was protruding from his back and the murderer leapt down from a high wall. Avrik straightened his back and motioned with his head. A number of peasants ran forward, wielding any tool they could find.
Ivalynn’s breath came easier, her head slumped back and her eyes closed in relief. What brought her back to reality was the wicked last laugh of Lord Gorahm, and, right before he crumpled to the ground, the stinging burn of the knife that was buried deep in Ivalynn’s stomach.

Avrik dropped his bow and hastened to the side of his fallen friend. She lay on the ground, not moving. Avrik tried to steady his breathing as he clutched Ivalynn’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. Blood poured from her mortal wound, but a faint beat signified that she was not gone yet.
“Ivalynn, wake up. Wake up!” Avrik removed her hand from the knife and taking a deep breath, pulled it from her abdomen. Red still continued to drench her pale lavender dress. Avrik needed something to stop the blood, something to quench the flow of life exiting Ivalynn’s body. He detached his cloak and wrapped it around her gut, positioning her up against the cold wall. The young man shivered in dread as the sun started making its appearance through the gray clouds.
“Avrik…” Ivalynn’s weak voice drew his attention back to her.
“Ivalynn! Don’t worry, I’ll, I’ll get you taken care of. Just stay with me, okay?”
“Avrik, my time has come.”
“No! You’re going to be queen again, you’re going to live!”
“Avrik, there is one in this land who will follow after me. My father had another child.”
“But, h-how is that possible?”
“I don’t know, they must have been… put in hiding… you must- find them. They, as with my father and I, will have green eyes …” Ivalynn coughed, crimson staining her lips. Avrik’s arms shook as he picked her up and carried her to the door of the castle. Commoners watched in fearful silence. The doors were already opened and Avrik entered, weaving through the halls to find the infirmary. Ivalynn’s breathing grew softer and came less often, her life was fading.

“Sir Avrik.” The man who had served as Ivalynn’s doctor stepped out of the apothecary and looked at Avrik with a grave and serious expression.
“H-how is she?” Avrik couldn’t breathe. When the physician didn’t answer, he knew. “She’s gone.” Avrik said it as a statement, not a question.
“I’m sorry lad. I tried my best. What will happen to the kingdom now?” The doctor latched the door and walked away down the long hall. Avrik watched him leave in quiet sorrow. It seemed as if the whole world had begun to crumble around him. He sat in the stone corridor and let his mind wander, recalling every memory he had of Ivalynn. From the time they had been short and energetic, to the brief period where they refused to speak to each other. Ever since they were young kids, Ivalynn had always been more academic, when they were young teenagers, she still helped him with his school work. She had given him important instructions up to the moment of her last breath.
Avrik opened his eyes, remembering her last words to him. He was to find the heir to the throne. Avrik stood reluctantly, there was no saying how long the search for the person would take. If only he had met… met? If only he had met the person… if only he had met the person! He had met the person! He tried desperately to recall where, when he had seen those green eyes looking up at him. That was it! When it was announced that Gorahm was going to be the next king, the little girl talking to him afterwards had brilliant green eyes.
Avrik raced down the hall. If he was to fulfill his best friend’s last wishes, he must find that girl.

The thick wood of the peasant’s door was pounded roughly. The kind woman left her dough on the wood block that served for a table and unlatched the heavy entrance. The young man that stood in front of her looked absolutely exhausted.
“Come in, please.” The woman’s ordinary gray eyes looked at him curiously; they never had visitors, especially one that did not appear to be a peasant like them. “May I get you a drink?”
“That would be highly appreciated.” He sat on the bench she motioned to and gulped down the cool water she handed him. When he was done, the woman continued.
“May I help you at all?”
“Yes actually, um, I was wondering if you happen to know a little girl with green eyes. She’s probably about this tall, thin, blonde hair…” The woman’s strange look made Avrik pause in his words. “Do you know her?”
“Yes, I do. Who did you say you were?”
“Oh yeah, I’m Avrik, friend of the, um, former queen.”
“Why are you here? What do you want with- with the girl?” The woman was looking at Avrik suspiciously. Before he could answer, a calm, quiet voice spoke from the corner.
“Hello, mister.” The thin body of a child hunched in the back of the room. Her pale green eyes stared at him unblinkingly.
The woman placed and hand on her brow and sighed audibly. “I told you to keep quiet.” The girl shrugged in response to the woman’s statement. Avrik stood and said,
“Ma’am, er, Mrs.…”
“You can call me Trilda.”
“Right. Trilda, may I please speak to you alone? Maybe outside?” He started towards the door and Trilda followed him. Once out in the stale, early spring air, he said,
“Trilda, you might not quite understand what I am about to say, and you might get angry at me, but I need to tell you something about your… daughter. She is not biologically yours, she is really the-“
“Queen. Princess. Royal. Next in line for the throne. Second daughter of the king and queen. I know.” Trilda cocked an eyebrow at Avrik who stood in silence. “How much do you know?”
“Um, she is the princess. That’s about it. You wouldn’t mind telling me her story, would you?”
“My husband Darik and I had always loved children. Twelve years ago, we had a three-year-old son, as well as seven-year-old twin boys. Darik worked hard as a scribe for the king and, if I do say so myself, the king favored him above his other scribes. He worked efficiently, and when the king needed entertainment, he often served as a storyteller as well. The king most loved to hear of our sons who were always getting into trouble and causing mischief in the town. The king would shake his head and laugh, thankful that he only had a gentle little daughter. Yet, inside, he knew how much we loved our children, three tremendous gifts that we had been blessed with.
“The day came when the queen had her little baby that was due to be born soon. Several hours later, word was released that the baby and mother had died. Of course, everyone believed, everyone but Darik and I. In the dead of the night, only an hour or so after the queen had had her child, we heard a knock on our door. Darik opened it and a cloaked figure walked in. To our great shock, it was the king himself. He handed me a bundle and when I looked in, I saw a small little thing. He said that the queen had a girl, but she was blind. There were some members of his court whom he believed wished to take over the kingdom, and a blind heir to the throne would only cause more danger to the kingdom. In her last living moments, the queen decided that their best decision was to take the baby somewhere else to keep her safe.
“For twelve years, we have raised Rettyl as our own. She knows not of her royal ancestry, neither do her brothers, only that she was brought to our doorstep to be raised in a good home. Darik and I prayed that the kingdom would never come to this place, the position where she must rule.” Trilda studied Avrik who furrowed his brow and paced in front of the door. Suddenly, the matronly figure stiffened and Avrik tensed as well.
“What is it?”
Instead of answering his question, Trilda groaned and said, “This was not how I wanted her to learn of her true parents!” Avrik stood in confusion until a flaxen-haired head appeared around the corner of the house. Rettyl faced them, her expression changing from guilt, to sorrow, then to frustration. All three stood in silence until the girl spoke.
“I can’t.”

~*~

It was all settled, Rettyl would go to the castle and rule. Her three brothers all watched her in disappointed silence. The tawny-haired trio of tall, muscular teen boys hugged their precious sister and wished her good-luck, ordering her to invite them to the castle a lot, a demand that she readily agreed upon. Darik, being back from the palace, looked Avrik straight in the eye and made him promise to keep Rettyl safe. The young man said he would do all he could to keep her from harm’s way.
As the tall, dark-haired, young man, and the small, blonde girl walked away from the house where she grew up, Avrik felt her small hand slide into his.
“I can’t do it alone. You’ll help me, right?”
“Always.”