The King's Misfortune

[zydrate]

(closed-please PM if you want to write this with me. I am looking for someone who can write more than a few sentences )

Her raven hair waved behind her as she pushed her horse to it's limits. In the distance, the sun started to break over the horizon but yet, the forest remained dark so she had to stick to the trail no matter what.

She had to get to the King right away.

Rena had a vision.

Not just any vision either.

Images of what she had seen flashed in front of her as she continued to ride.... an image of the King being attacked.... the castle being stormed upon by the enemy.

And with no heir to carry on the King's legacy, the kingdom would be left in ruin...

"No!" She said out loud.

Suddenly her horse cried out and lost it's footing, throwing Rena to the hard, cold ground. She screamed too, both in pain and in frustration. "No!!" she screamed again.

She was running on pure energy, from where it came from, she did not know, but she took it. Getting herself upright and finding her own footing, Rena looked down at her horse, who lay on the dirt trail, breathing hard and suffering from almost no rest.

Kneeling down next to the animal, Rena ran her hand along the horse's neck, stroking, whispering to it in a calming voice. "Ohh... I am so sorry but..." she leaned down, near the horse's ear, "I have work to do...I have to get to the King... please..."

It was no use. She had pushed the horse too hard.

Rena stood. Her eyes still focused on her horse.

She had to focus....close her eyes...whisper a spell under her breath...

Concentrate.

A sudden wind, light at first, blew threw the forest, rustling the tree leaves.

One had to listen hard before they could hear what she did.

The galloping of another set of hooves racing through the forest. Racing toward her.

Suddenly, the wind stopped.

The wild 'neigh' of a horse was heard as Rena suddenly started running.

As if in the blink of an eye, another horse was running beside Rena. It neighed at her, as if urging her on, telling her it was fine...

She grabbed the horse's mane as the two ran before pulling herself up on to his back.

They would make it to the castle.

There was still hope.

 

[saedo]

King Stavros downed another glass of autumn wine and glared out towards the horizon. His meddlesome sisters were driving him to drink. He took another angry swallow.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. His elder brother Tarkin was supposed to be King until one of his sons inherited the role. Stavros had lived his entire life believing that. He'd been quite comfortable with the prospect of being a noble without responsibility.

The last five years had changed all that. Tarkin's elder sons had both been lost in the last war - heroically, of course. The youngest had been traveling with the Queen to Lucentia across the western sea to refresh diplomatic ties when an unexpected storm of massive proportions sunk their ships.

Fresh out of heirs in a country that placed great emphasis on lines of succession, Tarkin had quickly remarried a nubile young bride. Unfortunately, she proved perhaps too nubile for a somewhat aged king with a fondness for rich feasts.

Only was it then that anyone remembered that Tarkin had a younger brother. Their father, King Hessen, had myriad daughters, but only the one son. Tarkin was already a feted warrior when Stavros was born an became King just a handful of years later. Stavros had not sought glory like his elder brother and had been quite content in his quiet corner of the Royal Court.

Still, he'd done his duty and taken the throne. That had proved to be every bit the massive headache he expected. Slowly he'd gotten a grip on the reins of power. Months later, people had mild optimism about his prospects as sovereign.

However, that let the focus shift from his reign to his successor. Stavros had no heirs. He'd married as part of some political arrangement ages ago. It had been a passionless affair that neither had enjoyed - particularly in the bedroom. Despite the scarcity of their attempts, she did become pregnant. Unfortunately, she died in childbirth. The entire experience had soured Stavros on marriage, so he'd remained a bachelor in the years hence.

Such would not suffice as King, however. Stavros grudgingly acknowledged that should he die without an heir, the lines of succession were open to debate. That virtually guaranteed a bloody war of succession. As such, he owed it to the kingdom to father a son.

Unfortunately, that meant a parade of bridal candidates and the constant nattering of his sisters and royal advisers about the political consequences of each. The process made his head hurt.

He looked towards the western forest. A dark wind must be blowing, based on the swaying of the mighty trees therein. What news might it bring?