The Missing Monarch

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [The Beginning] ࿐ྂ

Brielle:

If all things are meant to end, what's the point of ever experiencing it?

One simple question, but one that required so many answers. Even now, as her whole life burned down around her did she have to keep reminding herself of these things. The glorious sights you see, and the disappointment that you could never paint it the way you've captured it in your head. The various sounds you hear, from birds singing an early morning song to the enchanting chorus of a string quartet. The sweet scent of cookies being made in an oven, and the impatience at waiting for them to be cooked already. The bitter taste of old wine on your tongue, as you decided to take your parents' supply. The feelings of joy, sadness, grief, disgust, fear, anger and love wrapped up in your chest in an incoming wave, ready to consume you at any moment. And finally, the burn of your worked-up heart after running miles just because you felt like it.

That's what kept Brielle optimistic; the surety that she would never hate the life she'd been given, and the myriad of things that had made her who she was. Sometimes, she'd learned, it's better to dwell on what you have at the moment- even if it hurts more when it's gone.

Her heart lay empty now, as she looked over at the burning empires of her life. The crushing realisation that the thing she took for granted is now just gone.

Brielle gripped onto her arm tighter, skin tearing beneath her nails.

The cold-stone walls that had long felt like a cage, suddenly felt like a guardian angel ripped from its duties. The watchtowers, which had felt like a ridiculous safety measure, were now devoid of guards- the lack of security fueling the upbeat rhythm of fear in her heart. And the spiked, golden gates, which had been wrenched down with thick tendrils of rope, felt like a long-forgotten nightmare flaring into the big, bright flames of another.

Her grief was quickly forgotten as she heard the sound of ruffling feet moving against the soft carpeting of the safe room. The room suddenly not feeling 'safe' anymore, as an indiscernible figure creeped through the lifeless shadows. She detected hope swelling- something she had come familiar with lately. Hope that the future would be better, but that was foolish. Things had changed. She wasn't the naive, young girl who believed that you had to wish upon magic stars to get what you wanted anymore. If you wanted something, you got it yourself.

Brielle hoisted up the sword, that had previously been at her feet, ready to strike if she had to. "Quinn? Is that you?" She uttered beneath a shallow breath. She still had to make sure.

A blonde head came into view and her heart's unsteady rhythm eased. She let the sword clatter to the ground. Foolish.

"Yes, Bri. We must leave now." It was Quinn. No one else ever called her that but him. Although his voice had taken on a rather bashful tone, one she had never heard him use before. Maybe it was the circumstances or maybe something was incredibly more worrisome? She didn't know, but she tried to crush the current of emotion currently brushing her heart.

As he stepped ever closer, Brielle was ready to pounce and wrap her arms around his neck- although her eyes spotted something beforehand. A splat of red on his attire.

Her anxious eyes continued to search him.

Quinn's once radiant, blonde locks were now streaked with blood. And his previously glorious armour looked beaten.

Brielle immediately felt the flair of uncertainty and danger bloom back to life within her chest, and grab hold of her gut in an iron fist.

Brielle opened her mouth to protest about her concerns aloud, but the words never left as her gaze became aware of Quinn's uncanny composure, and his unusual flat-lined lips. "Quinn, is something else the matter-?!"