The Sword of Blood and Roses

Prologue

The smell of blood and ash permeated the air. It made Pira's nose burn with every inhale of breath. Chaos ran around her. Guards with burns were being whisked past her to the infirmary, maids ran with bowls of water, in one hand and thread and needles in the other. Pira had even seen a maid carrying a mangled torso with a head and nothing more.

In Pira's eight years, she had never seen so much destruction.

For the most part, Pira remained unscathed, save for the large cut above her right eye and the crimson blood splattered across her baby blue dress.

Eleanor, Pira's Mother, was also fortunate in that regard. Eleanor's elegant midnight blue dress had only been burned at the bottom and the blood didn't show on the fabric, but the now familiar metallic smell still wafted through the air.

The castle had been hit the hardest. On the ground, there was a myriad of colourful broken glass glinting in the torches light. Parts of crumbling stone were now lying aimlessly through the halls, a light dusting of ash laid atop of everything. The ash would swirl every time someone walked by.

Blood painted everything.

Tears pricked the corners of Pira's eyes. Her home had been attacked, people she cared about hurt. Her life had seemed to burn around her and there she was now, sitting outside of her father's room, hours after an attack.

A guard came by, standing at full attention. He bowed to Eleanor, then Pira. "Your majesty permission to speak"

"Granted," Eleanor said, pacing back and forth.

"We believe that we have caught all intruders," the guard said. "We're now awaiting instructions on what to do with the prisoners.

"Execute them," Eleanor said. There was no hesitation, no moment of thought.

The guard hesitated "My queen, I-I don't think that's wise"

"I don't care" Eleanor growled and turned to the guard. "My husband, your King is dying thanks to those scoundrels; I want their blood to paint the walls of the throne room and their bones to make a grand chandelier for the ballroom. Do you understand me?"

Pira flinched and buried her face in her hands.

"Of course my queen," the guard bowed once again before marching down the hall.

Then a sob ripped through Pira's throat, then another, then another. The young girl pulled her knees into her chest and continued to cry. Eleanor walked over to her, placing a gentle hand on her mop of muddy blonde hair.

"Shhh Sweetheart," Eleanor cooed, "Everything will be alright."

"Is p-papa going-going to die" Pira choked out, only to sob harder.

Eleanor didn't answer. After all what answer could she give? Unfortunately, the answer was soon to be found.

Moments later the door to King George room was opened by the doctor who shuffled out, bowing to Eleanor than to Pira.

His outfit, like the palace, was smattered with blood, both dried and fresh. His glasses were askew on his nose and his hair dishelved. His face was what gave Pira pause. His expression was morose and resigned as if he had already looked death in the eye and knew the end was nigh.

"Yes, doctor," Eleanor asked standing up.

Instead of answering Eleanor the doctor turned to Pira, "Young Princess, I think you should go see your father."

She looked at Eleanor who nodded and helped the girl up before gently pushing her towards the large oaken doors. Pira yanked the door open more before walking in.