The snow crunched beneath her feet as she trudged through the dense forest. She had managed to slip past the sentries and was now a 45 minute walk past the gates of the war camp where she was visiting her father, King Amalaric, for the last 3 weeks. Her father had been gone from the castle for the last 3 months tending to his troops stationed along the border of the neighbouring country Fuathmhor. King Amalaric,her father, had a personal vandetta against Fauthmhor and their royal family since he was a boy, and it was just a matter of time, she supposed as she trudged through the snow, that the two countries went to war. She thought of her fathers story he told her 3 months ago when she demanded to know why his hate for them was so strong that he felt the need to risk his life and others simply to fight them.

“I had been sent to a far away boarding school in a neutral territory, as all sons of kings are, to learn skills that were necessary to one day rule, fighting, reading, manners, politics things that were absolutely essential to know in order to maintain a country and keep your people happy, healthy and thriving. There I met Acheron the oldest son of the previous king of Fauthmhor, like his father his eyes were full of hate and violence. He was 2 years ahead of me the same age as my older brother…” he trailed off then staring at a spot on the floor, as though “I will spare you the details Ophelia but, my older brother was betrayed and killed by the hands of Acheron on the day they were supposed to go home for good. Acheron knew how beloved my brother was and how powerful of a king he would be, so he feigned an ‘accident’ perfect enough that no one questioned If it truly were an accident or not, but I knew and no one believed me” he stopped speaking again still staring at that spot as though he was seeing the story play out right in front of him on the floor “that is who they are Ophelia, they are the opposite of who we are, they are death and anger and destruction, they are the most violent kingdom in our entire territory. My spies have brought back countless reports on the dealings of their court, they are going to attack and if we do not attack first they will. We cannot lose the upper hand and if we win we can bring back peace to the entire territory and end their reign of terror.”

She continued trudging through the forest, thinking of all her father had told her that day. He had been right, she thought to herself, her Kingdom Gradhmhor was beloved through the territory, known as the kingdom of peace and beauty. But lately the people had been getting restless, especially those in the villages nearest the border, Fauthmhorian soldiers had been getting too comfortable some even being caught in the forest Ophelia now trudged through, simply to insight fear into the hearts of the people, preparing their attack no doubt. Though the thought of war still weighed down her heart, in the end she knew her father knew what was best for his beloved kingdom and would not put anyone in harms way if it was not absolutely necessary and so here she was, trudging through ankle deep snow through the forest.

She knew shouldn’t be out here but it was just so stuffy in the camp. Her father was always busy with meetings, generals, sentries, spies, a constant rotation of men coming in and out of the kings tent to discuss moves, rumours and strategies. Out in the main yards was filled with young men smacking eachother with swords, fighting in the mud or shooting targets with various arrows and axes, and the only other women around were the old stuffy nurses that traveled with the army to heal the sick and wounded after battle. So she decided to sneak out and go for a walk.

She had hauled on her fighting leathers, he father had given to her “not to fight but simply to be able to run of necessary” he had said when he gave them to her and she had rolled her eyes, little did he know she had been training with her personal guard who had been assigned to her after war had been declared, for the last 3 months. She had on her fur lined winter boots with a hunting knife hidden down into the leg of the boot and a brown cloak for warmth, her honey brown hair tied back with a ribbon to keep her vision clear should anything happen.

She didn’t quite know where she was going or how long she would be gone, she knew there was a small shallow river between the camp and the border so she decided to head there, take a look and head home. She continued walking, the closer she got the louder the sound of rushing water became and then through the few trees ahead of her there she saw it, the river. It was half frozen over, with snow covering the few rocks that poked out of the water and ice patches scattered about the surface of the river. She sat on the bank of the river for a moment taking a small break before she started the hour walk back to her father. As she was wondering weather or not it was sand or grass beneath the snow leading into the river she heard a crunch in front of her across the water and there, stood the most beautiful boy she had ever seen, dark blonde hair swept across his forehead, sharp blue eyes, that were now filled with remorse and guilt stared back at her. She wondered at the emotion in his eyes until she looked at the rest of him he was standing there in silver chest armour and black leathers underneath, with a red crest of two lions in the shoulder, Fauthmhor’s crest, fear began to rise in her chest.

“Run” he mouthed, she began to rise from the ground but it was too late as two hands wrapped around her mouth and chest and began hauling her across the river. She felt something hit her head and as the world began to go dark she wondered at the Fauthmhorian boy who tried to warn her.

To be continued??