The Mourning Prince
|
||||||
Prologue |
||||||
|
||||||
|
||||||
The
Archbishop of Rhemuth lightly knocked on the door of the royal quarters.
Knocking again he slowly opened the door and peeked inside. His grey
eyes slowly adjusted to the dimly lit room, with only a fire burning in
the fireplace.
Slowly he entered, closing the door behind him. The room was sparse especially for a future king. As he walked into the room he noticed a familiar desk to his left, the light in the center of it was dark. Looking closer at the desk he noticed the pile of papers in the center, obviously awaiting the future kings signature. Making a mental note to ask him about them he continued on. Just right of the desk was a window embrasure. In that embrasure was the sleeping form of the future king, and laying beside him was a small furry curled up creature. Smiling to himself he walked towards the window and glanced down at the sleeping forms. Then he glanced up out of the window at the slowly rising sun. Thinking to himself that it was unusual for the king not to be up this early, but again he deserved the extra rest, after all things that gone on these past months. Turning around slowly he spied the high-backed chair that facing the window and the fireplace. Thinking that would it a be good time for himself he slowly walked towards the chair. As he was about to sit down he saw that the door to the royal bedroom was open and a soft glow permitted around it. Good he thought the king had set wards around the queen and future heir. Knowing why the king hadn't put wards around himself, the Archbishop sat down. Leaning back he stared at the king and the furry figure, and his mind began to wander back not so many years ago, the same scene, but a different place a different country. Smiling absently to himself he thought, and is this what he saw. |
||||||
|
||||||