Prince Marshal climbed the castles heights, defeating the witch’s army of the undead and her ten foot frost troll. (The prince had never seen a creature in need of so many feet) His sword drenched in the blood of his enemy’s, his body ached but it mattered not for he would fight a hundred army’s and a thousand trolls to rescue his beloved princess Lyra.
Reaching the top of the highest tower, stabbing though the lock of the wooden door, cautiously stepping into the dark room. “Darling?” He called, looking around he spotted a weeping shadow slung over a chair. “Lyra!” he called to her again. The princess looked up from her moist hands “oh, Marshal!” she shouted, running into his arms, the prince kissed her sun blond hair and looked into her vibrant blue eyes; noticing her elegant but odd clothing “Lyra why are you dressed as a man?” Looking down at her smooth chest, he stepped back in shock. A voice echoed though the room “Your too late, prince Marshal.” a wicked laughed filled the air, “I do hope you like my new husband, the stunningly handsome prince Lyrin, quite the catch.”
Marshal was speechless and still stunned by the time the magic spell had nocked the horrified prince clear though the open door his body ricocheting out of sight. The princess…or prince shrieked in horror “My dear prince Lyrin…” came the witches voice again “there is no one who will save you now.” feeling the witch pull him into a tight embrace. “Marshal save me, please!” But the prince never returned.
