Creperum

Chapter One

Most little girls grow up dreaming of their wedding day, and in that sense I was no different from them. But whereas the majority of girls dream of their big white dresses and beautiful flowers, 

I dreamed of which dagger I would use to slit the throat of my future husband. I imagined the blade sliding across his pale skin and the flow of crimson that would ensue. 

I even wrote it down once, my plan that is, and feared my punishment when my Mother found it. Lest she think me insane, I planned to tell her it was a morbid legend the town children made up, but her reaction 

was to kiss my forehead and tell me to carry on playing. 

I would assume, therefore, that this was a normal fantasy. After all, she'd reminded me many times that my future husband was an evil person. What else does one do with an enemy? 

The morning I heard the news was cold and wet from dew, with spring barely clinging to the trees. Flower buds, not ready to awaken, lined the walkways of the streets. They left me in anticipation, for their arrival foretold warmer weather. The news of that morning came not from the town crier as per usual, but from the grapevine of the street. 

Perhaps it began as some truth, but by the time it reached my ears, the devastation was enough to make me dizzy. It was happening. King Hrothgar was ill, gravely ill, though it was never said what with. I went home immediately, but my Mother had heard long before I'd got there. 

The home in which we shared was a modest white mansion with red gables and trimming. The door was a dark heavy oak. Once inside, I could see the glitter of a chandelier that sent rays of light dancing across the high ceiling and walls. 

A grand staircase was laid out in front of me, leading up to the second floor bedchambers. To the left of the floor I stood on were doors and halls leading to the kitchen, the servants quarters, a library, and my Father's untouched study, and to the right was a drawing room and parlor where guests were entertained. 

There I found my Mother, Katherine of Nocturne, sitting with an older pair, a  gentleman and lady, with a royal guard posted at the entrance. I approached the door, my eyes locking onto the breastplate of his black armour. There shone the royal crest, a raven perching beneath two crossed swords, surrounded by ribbon and plumes. 

He bowed when I came near him. Without a helmet, I could see his dark features. High, sculpted cheekbones supported his eyes, almost as black as night. His skin was deeply tanned and leathery, with scars on his hands and down his cheek. Those eyes glanced over me quickly before he stepped aside. 

"There she is. Good evening, Lady Alpine." It was the man who spoke, his voice creaky and strained. The couple, who I recognized as Duke and Duchess of Eastern Nocturne, stood when the door closed behind me. 

"Nonsense! She is a princess once again. As we should have always been." My Mother objected. I noticed that she was dressed in her favorite attire; a midnight blue gown with tulle over the skirts and sleeves. 

"You know the Eastern land has always been supporters of the Alpine bloodline, your Grace." Was the woman's reply. 

The couple, nearly as ancient as Nocturne itself, wore beautiful clothing, both a matching shade of gray. The woman, in her day dress, kept her hair in a thick silver braid wrapped around her head like a halo. Her face, despite its wrinkles, was feminine and smiling. 

The man had on a military uniform. Pristine metals and ribbons decorated his right side. Unlike his wife, who stood straight and gracefully, the Duke hunched over with scoliosis. 

 I greeted them warmly, as a lady is taught to do, before turning my attention to my Mother. "So it's true then. The King is sick. Have arrangements been made?" I asked.