It was a lovely day. The King Anthony V had just been married to his queen, the Lady Marie. They had a feast within the courts, and everyone – even the commoners from the villages – was allowed to celebrate with them. The whole kingdom was happy for the royal couple. But somewhere outside the kingdom, somewhere deep within the woods, a sorceress was very, very unhappy.
The sorceress was named Adrienne. She was the older sister of the King Anthony V. She could have had the kingdom, if it weren’t for her foolishness. She had listened to an old man’s evil words. She had listened to him when he said that she would never have the kingdom as long as her brother – although Anthony was younger – was alive. She had made up her mind to get rid of Anthony. She had used the old man’s evil magic to get rid of her brother without bloodshed, but she never succeeded. And as soon as King Anthony IV discovered her using evil magic and her wanting her brother gone, the King Anthony IV had ordered her exile. She was never heard of ever since… not until one particular day.
After the wedding feast, when all the visitors had gone home, the oracles had gathered together to tell the royal couple of what lies ahead of them. The King Anthony V and the Queen Marie were both eager to know what the oracles had to say.
The first oracle spoke with great sorrow. “The kingdom will not have a prince, my lord.” This was grave news to the Queen Marie. So she asked immediately, “Won’t I bear my king any children?” The first oracle had changed his mood. He answered her with a smile on his face. “Your majesty, you will bear the king two daughters, one of the daylight and the other of the night. Your daughters will be the most remarkable and most respected princesses this land will ever know.” This brought great joy to the king and queen.
The second oracle was filled with great delight. He turned and faced the king and spoke with the greatest sincerity. “All the years of your reign, the kingdom will be peaceful. There will be no wars. The kingdom will be prosperous. Agriculture will be fruitful. Trade will be great. And your reign shall mark the beginning of a golden age.” This news pleased the king and queen.
The third oracle, however, brought the gravest news the kingdom would have ever known. “One of your daughters shall be taken away from you. But she will return. You will know her when you see her. Your daughters will engage in a war that mere weapons cannot win. It is a war that can only be won once royal blood has been shed on the battle grounds of the Mount Geru. A misfortune awaits your children, and it will be brought about by a great sorceress.” Upon hearing this, the queen went away to mourn for her children who aren’t even conceived yet.
Not long after the wedding, a daughter came to the king and queen. She was born early in the morning, just a few minutes after sunrise. She had golden hair, just like her father. She had green eyes, a lovely face, and fair skin. Her parents called her Agatha. King Anthony held her in his arms and declared joyfully, “She is my daughter, Princess Agatha, the Princess of the Daylight!”
As a child, Princess Agatha was full of grace. She was lovely – perhaps the loveliest girl one would see in the kingdom. She was gentle and kind. She could have been called a perfect princess, but she, too, had her own mischief. Sometimes she would go out to the stable and open the doors, setting the horses on their feet. She would laugh at the next scene that appeared before her: A bunch of caretakers running after the horses. Sometimes she would go out into the kingdom and play with the common children, alarming the king and queen and making them send out knights in order to bring her back into the castle.
Seven years and several months after Princess Agatha was born, Queen Marie gave birth to another daughter. She had black hair which made her fair skin look even fairer. She had deep, brown eyes and a very lovely face. She was born as soon as the full moon had appeared from behind the clouds. She was called Rebekah, Princess of the Night. Rebekah was in no way inferior to her sister Agatha.
