1 Chapter One: Dark Beginnings

Running up to the imposing black gates rusted with age, my thoughts wander to a past best left buried. Mentally shaking myself and my foolish tendency to lose focus I turn to the task at hand, climbing the gate. The metal piece of art tragically has lost most of its glory with age, the intertwined rusted metal branches telling a story if one cared to listen. Regardless the style was not made for nighttime criminals. Not willing to let complications stop me, I step onto the gate using the branches as steps and gracefully scale the 10-foot barrier. Reaching the top I waste no time patting myself on the back as I jump off, rolling and absorbing the impact through my entire body rather than breaking my legs.

The manor just ahead, the House of Frost, is home to the king of the Winter court and his son prince Eyllon Enthiran. No mother as far as anyone knows, however, distant rumors of a tragic death long before now constantly circulated, and people regularly questioned what happened to the queen. I dash across the perfectly trimmed grass towards a better future, one with no Eyllon. Reaching the side of the manor, it in itself rings with otherworldliness, as it's more of a castle with the stones perfectly set into a base about 4 feet high and a dark polished wood that made up the 3 stories of numerous rooms, with eloquent glass windows mostly blocked by voluminous red drapes. All the better for my less than legal activities, I suppose. Its difficult to marvel at the charismatic beauty of the place with the rambunctious crowd gathered in the king's halls for tonight's celebration making such a racket. Specifically, to celebrate the prince's engagement to some pampered brat from the Autumn Court come to dutifully accept his hand in marriage. The bastard.

 Pulling off my satchel,  I swiftly change into a servant's outfit. Switching my red cloak, ragged trousers, and blouse, for a maid's outfit disguising myself in clothing more suitable to the underpaid workers. After checking the maps again, I strap a gleaming dagger to my side, the employer (ever classy) having given me a weapon suited for- well, the prince himself. The metal, thin as a wisp and sharp as the most polished steel if not more so shines violet and leaks a faint blue light. Azurite, presumably. The hilt is a piece of obsidian carved from who knows where with a fortune of jewels embedded into the handle. Numerous ruby's peridots and sapphires make it look as if a fire is burning within the frigid obsidian. Well suited for the assassination of a royal, for sure.

Lest I get caught dawdling around the manor, I hurry to the servant's entrance and shove the door open, the aromas hitting me instantly. Cumin, basil, and all things that used to be home. No one pays a servant girl any attention as I climb the spiraling staircase, the banister matching the exterior walls. Eyllon doesn't hang around the parties, leaving the best course of action to await the arrogant noble in a dark hallway.

 I wait in an abandoned servant's passageway, which I found quickly, thank the goddess my information has proven correct. Settling down I look through the small window set in the wood, pondering what I'm doing. Sneaking into a castle, murdering a prince on his engagement celebration night no less, and then I think of this so-called prince. Drunk arrogant arse is more fitting, despite that the few interactions I've had with this figure stuck with me, a reason unknown to even one with an educated mind such as myself. I've witnessed him disrespecting the servants, and flaunting around all the women of the Winter court. General stupidity and ineptitude of anything political, useless, a figurehead, and a pawn in this game of chess- a bomb waiting to explode. 

Which lessens my guilt immensely, for if he marries the princess of the Autumn court the political power his father gains is unimaginable, eventually nursing the idea of taking over the other courts. As inevitable as this is as power turns all men greedy, even the kinds of soft-spoken kings, I'd like to avoid seeing the desolation of the courts for a little longer. I glance at the sky again. By the exact color of the sky, time can easily be told, especially once you learn the language of the stars. While on a purely mission-related objective, the stars catch my eye. All those bright lights shining despite this dreary world, shedding a sliver of hope for those who need it, those with stained souls and unforgivable sins committed, a fools dream to wish of being free. Regaining my train of thought I listen through the thin walls. The prince should be returning to his chamber soon, stumbling into bed drunk smelling of wine and ale. 

The disgrace does not disappoint by 23:00 late in the winter court his chamber door opens, one set of footsteps marking the prince's passage. The door closes with a soft thud sealing his fate and I hunker down alert waiting the appropriate amount of time before approaching the target's door. Around 1:00 when I'm sure the prince is passed out in a drunken stupor, I stand, gathering the few things I had let settle, the pack maps and essentials only- never pack more than you can carry.

 I turn down the abandoned hallway attached to the old broom closet, knowing if I feel along the wall it will lead me directly into the prince's sleeping quarters. Working out the kinks lest something go wrong, I trail down the dark hallway, smelling of mothballs. I recall the map in my mind's eye- turn left, right, and right again. Feeling around I've hit a dead end. On the last wall, I feel a scratchy surface. Canvas. Bingo, the painting- because that's what I'm feeling -happens to be my secret door to the room.

 Waiting, ear pressed against the moldy canvas, I listen for sounds of stirring footsteps, any small noise prompting me to wait longer. When nothing is heard I slowly push open the painting door. Stepping into the prince's quarters, it is different than what I would have expected. More… clean. The walls, the same wood as the exterior. A recurring theme throughout the manor, it seems. The furniture dyed a rich cream to offset the dark walls, with tasteful carpets spread across the floor, nothing quite like you'd expect a fae youth in his prime, royal no less, to live in. Deciding interior design isn't for me, I walk to the only door in the room, exempting the entrance. Presumably the door into his private bedchambers.

 Forgoing caution, I take the brass handle and swing the door inward, the wood softly whistling as the hinges creak. When nothing jumps out screaming "Gotcha!" I enter the room and find it to be similarly decorated as his outside quarters, though there are a great number more paintings of exquisite nature scenes. Vibrant in color, one of the contrasting paintings beautifully capture a wolf blending into the powdery snow while the peak of a mountain holds the sun, bright colors spreading across the horizon. Even more beautiful, the man whose soul will never be in this world again.

 I walk up to him and stare- for it's only fitting his face should be forever burned into my memory. Mahogany brown hair, almost black, mid-length and spread across the pillow in a disheveled fashion. A tanned olive skin tone so at odds with the pales of the winter courts inhabitants, combined with a strong jaw, and high cheekbones. Some would find this man attractive even if he never opened his mouth or moved,  and he definitely more suited a role as a doll than a prince.

 I unstrap the dagger from my thigh, the obsidian catching just right on the light of a star peeking through the window beside his bed, causing me to halt the dagger. Mesmerized, while bathed under the light of natures eyes. Speaking of eyes, I fleetingly wonder what this man's eyes look like, as eyes can tell character more than many things Vibrant like the paintings he surrounds himself with, or dull as the pleasantries in a royal conversation? Disregarding any and all stray thoughts I raise the dagger above his heart, arms clenching to plunge into his heart.  We're immortal, but a dagger to the heart should do. I raise my arms, hands clenched around the dagger, drawing breath and readying myself to kill this man. Eyllon's eyes open.

*Eyllon's POV*

Listening to my father drone on about his newest trade with another court is getting more boring by the minute. I long to retire to my chambers and escape this horrendous party, I feel like I'm being sent to the gallows rather than getting married. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure the girl is great if sheltered and lacking in anything substantial. Just another girl after my title and money. The banquet feast is the only section of this dinner worth enjoying. Turkey, ham, goose- all roasted and seasoned to perfection along with salads and potatoes, anything a prince could want. The servants work hard and it shows within the results. If it were up to me, I'd give them all a raise. But what am I, aside from a playboy prince. Scanning the length of the huge table I find my father, King Holland, entertaining some duke or lord from goddess knows where with everyone engrossed in the king's story. A telling of his 'adventures'. Probably some folly tale he picked up when he was a lad. Sipping the imported wine, I look to the sky. It's rare a Fae knows how to read the sky- luckily, I picked up the skill, and now looking through the glass skylight I can tell It's almost 23:00. Deciding I've stayed long enough, I slowly rise and turn to leave the hall. My father's voice pauses, and then quite suddenly rings out.

"Good night Eyllon."

Most might see this as a goodnight from their loving fathers. I certainly don't. A threat, and a warning. To stay out of trouble, for father wouldn't want his precious reputation damaged. Exiting the loud chamber I release a breath of relief.  With each of the nobles vying for a shred of the king's attention and all too absorbed in themselves it grates my nerves to sit around and listen. Strolling down the corridors, absorbed in my thoughts, I appreciate the art strung along the walls as I think of the future.

I can't fathom what it will hold, unable to imagine taking on the burden of ruling a kingdom. Unable to comprehend taking some meek little wife to live out my days in misery. Thoughts of a wife made me think of a mate. However, few found their own and it could be hard to tell who it was. That person almost always guaranteed a happy ending. Those who didn't find their mate lived out their days longing for something they would never have, always settling for less. A tragic fate, and one all too common in this era with political marriages and class separations and such.

Opening the chamber door I smiled- I was free for the night, my only time without prying eyes. Quickly scrubbing water over my face from a basin near the door I go straight to bed, the soft sheets welcoming me within their warm depths, unaware there was something else lurking aside from my anxiety.

It seems as if only minutes had passed as I slowly become aware, wondering what had awakened me. Servants knew not to disturb my rest. Feeling a sense of danger, I keep my eyes closed. Soft breath fanned my face alerting me to another's presence. This person smelled of smoke and dirt, the kind of smell you got after weeks of traveling. At this, my eyes snapped open to meet hers.

Exquisite bright violet eyes looked down at me with surprise before her face changed into one of determination. As well as marveling over her I take notice of the dagger poised over my chest and sharply draw a breath, enough to startle the woman into action. She moves as if to plunge the dagger into my heart, then faster then the wind pulls her hands with the dagger back and runs to the window, leaving me in a stunned state. Her opening the window shook me out of the daze, and I jump up to catch her. She jumps out the window as my fingers brushed her sleeve, leaving me behind.

As she dashes to the large gate I jump after her, hoping to catch this strange female before she escapes. Fate it seemed was not on my side she vaulted it without pausing and continued to run. She only spared me one backward glance, locking her violet eyes with my deep green ones. In them, I can see a storm of emotions. As she turned back and ran away, I knew I would be looking for her in the future.

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