Crown of horns

Chapter one

~~~~*~~~~

Long live the king. Long live the king of twisted fear and broken ties. Long live the king of death and ruin. Long live- the king is dead.

The king is dead, news spreads like wild fire, burning the tongues of all and darkening the mind of many with sorrow and grief. We weep, mother, sister, myself. We all wear a mask of pain just to look as though we care for the tyrant king, the dragon slayer. Sister seems the most jubilant about his death. Mothers sorrows may not be faked but my own are. His death gives way for my rule. I will turn the tides, clear a new path and remake our kingdom to be better. Down with the sport of dragon killing.

"Your majesty, the friar is here to read the kings will." Mother dabs at her empty eyes. "Very well. Send him in." She pulls a brave face. The short man stumbles over his feet falling into the room, facing the three of us. "I am deeply sorry for your loss." He greets. Ysme waves him off. She cares not for fathers death. "Very well. The king has left a red and black scale dress to, one Ysme pendragon, he has left a ring to his queen. And he has also requested Ysme be first heir to the crown of horns." The man rolls up the scroll.

I'm blinded by a bone chilling feeling. Crimson darkens the room. I, Alys pendragon, eldest of the pendragon heirs; am left absolutely nothing? How can such a terrible person still destroy lives from the grave?

I want to scream, to demand the first search their archives for a second will. This is not how I saw my future, stuck as the princess.

Mother is stiff with grief, her straw blonde hair hanging over her puffy red face.

Ysme radiates pride, even with her black earth dragon mask melting across her puffy red cheeks she manages to look less than human, and even less like my sister.

I shove my chair back, the wooden chair screaming its protest against the stone. It frightens the friar. I storm from the dining hall.

In the halls, The stone walls echo death and grief. Not that anyone cared for the bastard king of fangford.

I find myself stumbling up the stairs, falling into my room. I drag the large ornate sword from the wall, letting the steel strike the ground. With a twang the metal vibrates into my hands and up my arms. The sword is almost to heavy to lift.

"Alys. Alys Stop!" Mother cries pulling the sword into her worked hands. My eyes drift up to her face, her once country side green eyes are now bloodshot and watery. Her husband just died, no one can change that.

"Mother, She is not fit to rule! She is juvenile and obsessed with power! Ysme is just like father, nothing will change with her rule!" I shout. Her back stiffens, her chest puffing slightly. "You will put the sword back, change your dress and be at your sisters coronation. I will not hear another word of this." She orders before walking from the room, the order of a queen, my queen has been given. There is nothing to be done now.

I heave the sword back up on to its frame. Setting it back gently before gliding across the cold stone floor to my wardrobe. I pull the small bell string beside it and wait for the little red headed servant girl- Myra- to come draw a bath and set out a new dress for me. 

I stare in the mirror after, watching the servant girls fingers dance through my blonde locks, braiding it from my face. Her fingers are gentle, parting strand after strand of hair without the slightest tug. She concentrates in her work, unaware I watch her movements.

I move my gaze to her face. I study the lace engraved mask she wears. Father decided years ago, after he discovered a dragons death leaves a mark; everyone should wear a mask to hide a persons identity from marking. I have never seen anyone without a mask inside the castle. Only villagers do not wear masks. Lords and other high ranked officials from other lands wear masks too; but servants masks hide their entire face, not simple dragon scale masks that wrap around the eyes and rest above the cheeks.

"Will this do milady?" The girl squeaks. I nod with a polite smile dismissing her with a little wave. I rise, adjusting the tight green bodice of my pendragon color dress. I tug at the skirt, the sweeping fabric hissing as it brushes the stone floor. I wrap the purple scale cape around my shoulders before giving myself a nod of reassurance.

~~~~*~~~~
Shout out to julysummerskies, I couldn't have done this without you! Thank you so much for all you have done for me.