Queen

Chapter One: A Stranger

The warm sea breeze howled through the open parlor window causing it's sheer white curtains to dance and the elaborate illustrations that the girl had worked on for hours, fluttered threateningly under her palm. There was a storm coming but she didn't mind. The smell of the soaked earth after a good pour calmed her senses. It was always just what she needed. She rolled the thin stub of charcoal between her thumb and forefinger and ran it across the page before smudging the paper with long fingers, the tips of them black from her current study. It was supposed to be a self portrait but the likeness was too far off. She glared at herself through the looking glass and scrawled a new line across the page.

Despite her handsome parentage, she was quite the simple girl. Her thick mop of curly hair and almond eyes were not of the sort that inspired sonnets, as they were merely simple shades of brown. She wasn't the fair maiden that men could not peel their eyes from, no, but this did not bother her. She did not need to be beautiful to get what she wanted or do as she pleased. Her father made sure of that, or at least he used to.

She looked back to the mirror, eyes flickering up to meet their reflection. She really shouldn't have cried so much. A pink puffy face was unbecoming for a portrait. She smudged and erased the paper until she started to recognized the woman in the drawing as herself for what she appeared to be now. A child.

Then there was a noise. A shuffling of feet. Then..metal? Masked by the growing rumble of the storm, she hardly noticed the commotion as she ripped the page from the sketchbook, smashing it between her fingers and tossing it across the room.

And then she heard a wail.

The young princess rose from the parlor floor and pulled the door open a crack, peeking into the fire lit hallway. She suspected it was her young cousins, guests at court and utter nuisances to her quiet solitude, racing, playing tag or some other childish pastime. They knew excess noise disrupted her concentration, yet she'd already had to reprimand both of them thrice in the past week alone. More yelps echoed from within the grey stone castle walls and her annoyance peaked.  The princess shoved open the heavy wooden doors that were supposed to be locked...and guarded. The princess rolled her eyes, "So much for my safety, valiant Ser Karn." She mumbled taking the first step out of the parlor, her sea foam green gown swaying behind her, kissing the cold stones. There was no other sound but the growing storm outside, not a giggle or whisper or pitter patter of little feet. The shrill whistle of wind forcing its way into the cracks of the fortress was enough to make the princess uneasy and when she found herself alone as she rounded the hall, her heart nearly stopped.

"Samson? Juliet?" She called out to her cousins, a  slight tightness in her throat, "Whatever you two are playing at it must stop. It is far too loud for me to concentrate."

There was no response. Only the eerie hiss of the wind.

"Thank you." The princess had balled her hands into fists despite convincing herself to pay no mind to the heaviness in the air. She breathed deeply then let out a weak sighed, owing the raised hairs on her neck to the brewing storm.

Just as the girl began to feel silly about her nerves, a palm slipped over her mouth and another, wielding a knife, pressed against her throat. Her feet left the floor as she was hoisted onto the intruders form. Eyes widening with panic, the princess grabbed the strangers thick forearm without hesitation.

"Do not make a noise." The man whispered against her ear, his Vesi accent thick.

Those words in itself made her want to scream her throat ragged. A Vesi man in the castle? How? Her pulse quickened, heart thumping wildly as she shook out short quick nods, feeling his salty calloused hands against her lips. This would be the end of her, sold to some Vesi slavers or an Estherian brothel. If she was lucky, her captor would only slit her throat. Maisie had no desire to kiss the angel of death, but in this moment she feared its embrace was imminent. She had not spoken to the gods as often as she should've but that didn't stop her from closing her eyes and hoping they still cared to listen. The man dashed her around the corners of the east wing with disconcerting familiarity, carrying her into the stables where a cloaked figure awaited atop a horse.