His Queen

26.

Fire.

It was as fast as the enemy; slick and cunning.

You see, fire could be a friend or a foe.
It shall be your kindest companion upon keeping you warm.
And it shall be your greatest enemy if fallen upon sinful hands.

Fire.
Everywhere.

Panic.
It could heighten your senses.
And it could whisper the false decisions in your mind.

Rapid flames engulf the outer core of the royal carriage. It was not long until a loud crackling has been heard.

In a blink if an eye, a large wheel of the once mighty carriage collapses at the shouts of the flame. Detached further and further it became.

And at once; hanging upon a single thread.
Prince Harry Edward.

A shrill blood curling scream.

"HELP!"

Such small voice would have been unnoticeable, yet it was the pure terror that could arouse shivers down the length of one's spine.

Yet fire was determined to destroy everything that it could.
And it did.

Almost.

Hurried steps.
Frantic mind.
Searching for anything - anything that would suffice to know if anyone alive was left inside the carriage. Blood pumping through frozen veins; for life was placed heavily upon the maiden's shoulders.

Panic.
It could be your best mate.
And it could be your traitorous subconscious.

With a mighty crack that frightened her entirely, what she hoped to never happen daunted her existence.

The carriage fell down the steep hill. Sympathy was never heard of; for the fire was merciless. Hands shaking tremendously and eyes widened to the extent that she could feel tears drowning her cheeks.

Panic.
It was not to be her foe.
It was not to be.

"HELP-"

Round and round did the carriage go, fire never ceasing. Engulfing the carriage. Her chest heaved, heart thudding erratically. A child. She was utterly mortified. A child.

"Oh God. Oh God!"

Panic.
It was not to be.
No.

"NO!" She screams, feet running towards the fallen carriage. Dainty feet running down the hill, and it was not a second later that gravity worked it's force upon her frantic body. Her feet tripped upon a tree's thick root what made her tumble down painfully. Scratches litter on her limbs and face; dress ripped to a poor extent. However, she was not to waste her life only to not have the child brought to safety. Hand gripped at another thick old root, she controls her fall and she lands a foot away from the still, flaming carriage.

Time was not one to be wasted in such situation. She stumbles to the carriage with her body shaking and eyesight blurring, yet it was not to be given attention when a child was entrapped inside a flaming carriage.

More so, a Prince.

Prince Harry Edward.

The Prince!