(The Day Before)
Before steel rang against bone…
Before sickles screamed through mist…
Before the dead remembered how to rise…
There was morning.
The sun rose slowly across Greyvale.
Gold spilled gently over towers and stone walls. The valley breathed in silence. Smoke rose from chimneys. Market bells rang. Life unfolded as it always had.
Peaceful.
Unaware.
Inside Greyvale Palace, silk curtains stirred in the dawn breeze. Servants walked the corridors with hushed discipline. Guards stood in polished armor that had not yet tasted battle.
In the royal chamber, the Queen sat beside the prince's bed.
Her fingers moved slowly through his hair.
Carelessing.
Protective.
Almost as if memorizing the shape of him.
The boy slept soundly, unaware of absence. Unaware that by the next day, the palace air would feel thinner.
The Queen's eyes were open.
She had not slept.
Outside the chamber doors, whispers traveled softly between marble pillars.
Low.
Uneasy.
"The princess is not in her chambers."
"She is nowhere in the palace."
"Her companions are gone as well."
"No word left behind."
Nothing declared.
Nothing confirmed.
But the silence was breaking.
The chamber doors opened abruptly.
Not violently.
But fast enough.
The King stepped inside.
He had not dressed for court. His cloak hung loose over his shoulders, fastening undone. His crown was absent. Only a father stood there now.
His voice came low, controlled barely.
"Tell me it is rumor."
The Queen did not look at him immediately.
Her fingers continued their slow motion through the prince's hair.
The King's jaw tightened.
"They checked the east tower. The training grounds. The chapel." His voice was strained now. "She is nowhere. None of them are."
The Queen rose slowly from the prince's bedside.
"She would not leave without reason," the King continued, pacing once across the chamber. "This is not childish rebellion. Not recklessness."
"Then what is it?" he demanded. "What would make her vanish before dawn without a word?"
Silence stretched between them.
The Queen studied him carefully before speaking.
"She has always carried something in her chest," she said softly. "Something restless."
The King frowned. "Restless?"
"She has grown in the shadow of war stories and prophecies," the Queen continued. "She hears the generals speak. She watches you in council. She trains twice as long as required. She bleeds and hides it."
The King's expression shifted.
"She has always wanted to prove herself," the Queen said, her voice deepening with emotion. "Not as a princess. Not as a symbol."
She stepped closer.
"As more."
The King stopped pacing.
"She has watched knights kneel to you," the Queen said. "Watched warriors earn glory. Watched the kingdom whisper about destiny."
A pause.
"And she has wondered where she stands in it."
The King's breathing slowed.
"She is not content to sit behind stone walls," the Queen added. "She does not want protection."
"She wants purpose."
The words landed heavily.
The King went still.
Completely still.
His eyes widened slightly.
Memory flickered behind them.
Moments he had dismissed.
Questions she had asked.
The way she lingered during war briefings.
The way her jaw tightened whenever she was told to stand down.
He exhaled quietly.
"…I thought time would soften that fire."
The Queen's gaze was steady.
"It did not."
The King looked toward the window, toward the distant horizon beyond the palace walls.
Lost in thought.
Something unsettled him.
Not fear.
Recognition.
"She would not run from something," he murmured.
The Queen did not answer.
She didn't need to.
The silence said enough.
A father began to understand his daughter a little too late.
His thoughts turned backward.
Last night.
The council chamber.
The doors half-closed.
The map spread across the table.
The western forest circled in ink.
Voices lowered.
Warnings spoken.
Old names mentioned.
The Queen had urged caution.
He had said the threat was growing.
That something in the forest was no longer rumor.
He remembered the way the torches flickered when they spoke of it.
The way the air felt heavier.
And now;
The King's breath slowed.
His eyes widened.
A memory surfaced.
A faint sound in the corridor.
Footsteps.
Pausing.
Not entering.
Just beyond the door.
He had dismissed it.
Assumed it was a guard.
Or servant.
But now;
Now the silence of that moment returned with clarity.
The King's hand tightened against the stone ledge.
"She was near the chamber last night," he said quietly.
The Queen did not interrupt.
"She must have heard us."
The realization settled between them like a drawn blade.
The forest.
The threat.
The uncertainty in his voice when he spoke of sending scouts.
He exhaled slowly.
Not in anger.
Not in panic.
In certainty.
"She knows."
The Queen's expression did not change, but her eyes softened.
The King looked toward the distant line of trees beyond Greyvale's walls.
Not as a ruler.
As a father who now understood.
The King looked toward the distant line of trees beyond Greyvale's walls.
The horizon seemed farther than it had ever been.
The Queen's composure finally trembled.
"My one child lies here in his bed…" she whispered, her voice breaking for the first time. "And the other"
Her breath caught.
"I do not know where she is."
The words shattered the last of her strength.
Tears welled despite her effort to hold them back. She turned away slightly, as if ashamed of the weakness.
"I can protect one with these walls," she said, her voice cracking. "But the other…"
Her shoulders trembled.
"I do not even know which sky she stands beneath."
The King crossed the distance between them without hesitation.
He placed his hands gently on her arms.
Then pulled her into him.
Not as king.
Not as queen.
But as husband.
As father.
"It is not your failure," he said quietly.
She pressed her forehead against his chest.
"We raised her to be brave," she whispered.
"Yes."
"We raised her to stand when others would kneel."
"Yes."
Her fingers tightened in his cloak.
"And now she stands somewhere beyond our reach."
The King closed his eyes.
His voice was steady, though his grip betrayed him.
"She carries our blood," he said softly. "And our strength."
He rested his chin against her hair.
"She will not break easily."
The Queen wept silently against him.
Outside, the bells of Greyvale continued to ring.
Inside the chamber, two rulers held each other;
While beyond their sight,
Fate was already moving.
The Queen's quiet sobs softened into silence against the King's chest.
He held her firmly.
Steadily.
As if anchoring them both.
Behind them;
A small movement.
Subtle.
Almost nothing.
The prince's fingers twitched against the sheets.
Once.
Then again.
The Queen felt it first.
She pulled back slightly.
Turned.
His hand moved slowly, curling faintly as though grasping at something unseen.
"Look," she whispered.
The King stepped beside her.
The boy's eyelids fluttered.
A faint crease formed between his brows.
Breath shifted.
Slower.
Then deeper.
His fingers tightened again,
And his eyes opened.
Not fully.
Just enough.
Confused.
Heavy with sleep.
He looked toward them.
Toward the tears on his mother's face.
Toward the tension in his father's posture.
"…Mother?" his voice was small.
Fragile.
The Queen quickly wiped her cheeks and leaned over him, brushing his hair back again.
"I am here," she said softly.
The King forced calm into his expression.
The prince blinked slowly.
"Why are you both awake?"
The question lingered in the air.
Innocent.
Unaware.
The King and Queen exchanged a glance.
A silent decision passed between them.
Outside, morning continued to rise.
Inside, the prince had awakened;
And the day had truly begun.