Prologue: A Broken Heart for Each Plays a Part
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alexander strode through the village, ignoring the lustful stares of the young girls and women of his kingdom. He had come to see a young lady, the daughter of the recently deceased blacksmith and a recently widowed sorceress, said to be the most beautiful girl in the kingdom. His onyx cape flowed effortlessly behind him, on his shoulder, the proud crest of his people; a shield of black and gold with a proud silver helmet place upon it, the plumes in the colors that graced the shield. He wore his armor in hopes of impressing the young woman without the use of his title.
The crooning of girls blocked out all other street noise from the cobblestone pathway, normally bustling with people going in and out of the shoppes. The prince didn't particularly like it, but it was good for when he was looking for something to keep him busy, like he was now. Right now though, it was distracting. He wanted to play with this girl, and without the cloak of the false loyalty he planned to pledge to her, that would ruin his plan. He had heard tales of the old sorceress and the bond she held with her daughter. She was not to be trifled with.
“Prince Alexander! Prince Alexander!” The voice was an annoyance to the prince, but he smiled fondly as he paused in his stride, girls turning their gazes to the young son of Sir Thomas Pentagram, Marcus. The young squire rushed to the prince’s side, eyes wide and mischievous as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “My father has sent me to assist you in your quest to get herbs for the physician. Something about the king wanting a strong guard with you. They chose me!”
The thought of young Marcus being a “strong man” was laughable. He was the only known child of the sorcerer who had found himself in the king’s good graces and become a knight, but he was nothing like Sir Thomas. He was small, two heads shorter than the shortest knight the kingdom had, far too thin, and had very little muscle mass. The boy could barely lift a sword or ride a horse for sport. His father and Sir Thomas had obviously tried to get him out of their hair and thought that now would have been a good time to have him start off on his training. The boy was a four years younger than him and owned his own estate, yet had no real skill. Alexander just wished that they had chosen a different time because an annoying little boy would not help him seduce a girl.
“Okay, Marcus. I have to go to the blacksmith’s home and have a conversation. You are to stay outside and make sure nobody comes in. We are discussing something top secret information that must not be out in the village.” Marcus had nodded with an eager smile like any naive child, which he was, and followed as Alexander began to walk down the road again, a smug look across his face.
It took them around three minutes to reach the home of the deceased blacksmith, where Alexander knocked gently on the door after giving Marcus a look before opening the door and heading in. There was little noise coming from any of the rooms in the building, only a slight flickering from the back room.
“Good lady? Are you in sorceress?” Alexander’s inquiry was answered by a mumble and a few crashes from the back room before a thin woman with obvious age mixing with stunning beauty, stumbled out. Her brown hair, streaked with grey and hanging in her face. She had a light blush covering her cheeks, accenting her sharp blue eyes. She wore an extravagant gown, gray and blue swirling in patterns that made Alexander’s mind spin. The woman did not look up, only bustled over to a bookshelf and began running her index finger along titles, probably looking for one in specific.
“My name is Eleanor, good sir. You may call me as such. Now what may I get her?” The woman continued to search through her collection. Each one she looked at was written in a strange tongue, unreadable if you ask Alexander. After a long period of silence, Eleanor turns around, face cold and void of emotion until she gazes upon her prince, she blushes brightly and turns her face to the floor, mumbling apologies. “I am so sorry my lord! I was foolish and should not have spoken in such a manner. I beg your forgiveness! You must understand I wasn’t thinking clearly with my husband’s recent passing.”
“Calm yourself. I forgive you and you need not worry. I came here to ask permission to court your daughter.” Alexander saw no point in drawing this out, going straight to the point. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. He wanted to play with his new plaything as soon as possible.
“Why?” The question was simple enough, the thing was, other than her reputation and the gossip he had heard, he knew nothing of Katrina, the sorceress’s powerless daughter. He knew she was beautiful, the people in the kingdom raved about her goddess-like appearence and all of the artists wanted to use her as their muse. He also knew she was skilled in cooking due to the kind advice of past suitors. He knew she was intelligent and knew how to make swords just like her father, something that was very attractive to him. And he also knew everyone was afraid of her mother’s wrath. If he answered incorrectly, a lot of bad things could happen.
“I have admired her from a far, my good lady. She has an extraordinary smile and a good sense of humor. I hear she takes after her father and can work the shoppe quite well. She also has this amazing ability in the kitchen and was trained to sew by her wonderful mother. To tell you the truth, I would be honored to just gaze upon her, let alone attempt to steal her heart. I am asking you for the chance to try though,” Alexander explain, hoping that his act would pan out.
Silence was the answer Alexander received and his face remained in the practiced, hopeful expression while his mind was already planning to find his next chase. This would be a disappointing loss, but nothing to lose sleep over. He hadn’t even seen Katrina, so what loss would it be? He knows her reputation, but he could find a million girls who would be just as beautiful if not more.
“My prince, I doubt even if I said no, you would heed my words. So yes, you may attempt to court my daughter. I will call her for you now,” the aging sorceress smiled, returning to the back room and leaving a shocked Alexander in her wake. The woman was stubborn, he had heard the late blacksmith speak of her and how pig headed she could be. He expected a blatant no and harsh glare, not anything like the warm, humorous answer he got.
When the woman did return, she came with the girl who he had come for. The young Katrina was indeed beautiful. Alexander had never seen a girl who could compare to the sorceress’s daughter’s beauty. She was young, her appearance made that extremely clear. Her hair fell in fiery red, pin straight locks around her bare shoulders, sweeping softly against her chest and back. Her eyes were a soft brown, filled with a childish light that made her look that much younger. She wore a light blue, off the shoulder dress that looked like she was born to wear it, and it revealed pale, snowy skin.
“My lord,” the girl mumbled as she bowed her head and curtsied. Alexander could see the light blush upon her cheeks as she looked up at him through her lashes before looking back down to the dirt floor and blushing even more.
“Please, call me Alexander. No need for formalities, love. Now,” Alexander looked to Eleanor and back, “Shall we go for a walk? I would like to discuss some things with Katrina alone, and I am sure you would like to get back to whatever it was you are doing.”
Alexander and Katrina walked out of the blacksmith’s shop and sent Marcus home, continuing to walk through the village and talk. This is what they did for the rest of the day, Alexander learning a lot about Katrina, which he regretted ever listening to because he didn’t want a life story. He learned about Katrina’s disappointment that she didn't inherit her mother’s powers, how she only ever wanted to learn to read and write, how she had always wanted a prince of her own and so on.
The courting went on until Alexander could tell Katrina was falling for him. He bluntly told her that it was all a lie, that he never wanted her, that he could never truly love a sorceress’s daughter. Katrina had run home in tears and later it was made that she had taken her own life. Alexander thought nothing of it. Girls could be like that and he planned to leave a lot of broken hearts behind.
The thing is he should have known better. He should have remembered Katrina’s mother, who she was, what she could do because the sorceress only had her daughter left in the world. She would not let the heartbreak and death of her daughter go without hurting the prince. So when Alexander had gone out on a solo hunting trip, she looked into his fate, seeing his future, and cursing him in a way that would end the same as what had happened to her and her daughter. Death and heartbreak.
“From this day on, the young and treacherous Prince Alexander shall be condemned to a fate that can only cause him pain. He shall transform into a stag until the time that he falls in love with the one he is destined to and until she loves him back. Then and only then may he transform back into a prince.”
.+.+.+.+.
Quill sat in her sleeping chamber waving her hand soundlessly, creating small streaks of light in front of her face. Her younger brother, Marcus, had been sent to tend to the prince, whom she had never met and never wanted to. The manor was silent and she was absolutely bored. Her father was off who knows where with her mother, probably practicing magic to amuse her while she sat home alone, unable to go out because her father didn’t want the legendary sorceress, his only daughter, to go out and be put off by some snide comment about her being interested in unlady-like things, such as hunting.
That was another thing entirely. As far as the rest of the kingdom knew, Marcus was the only child Quill’s father had. When Quill was born, her father had known exactly what her destiny was, as most sorcerers can tell. She had a destiny written in legends, something that would make her almost as infamous as Melin himself, and he protected her from the world’s eye in order to keep her safe. Quill loathed this, but in a way, she knew he was right. The arrangement was that until her 19th birthday, that she was to stay hidden, and for that, he non magical brother could be the only known offspring of the king’s knight and court sorcerer. After that, she could go out into the world and explore.
Seeing as today was her eighteenth birthday, she was longing for the coming year to pass quickly. She planned to go into the woods, the place she found the most comfortable, to spend around a year practicing magic, studying literature, exploring musical activities, and hunting. It was something that ever since she could understand her father’s words, she had planned to do.
When she was born, her father had only ever wanted to have a son. At the time, there was no chance of her mother having another child. She had fallen ill and there was a high probability she wouldn’t survive, although she did. Her father taught her to hunt, and when he finally got a son, continued to teach her in the art, making her a great huntress. She loved hunting, and the woods were her favorite place.
No noise could be heard now except for the almost inaudible sound of her power, surging through the air. It was utterly silent until there was a sharp cry coming from just outside the manor. It startled Quill, only enough to stun her momentarily before she was off like a shot, down the corridors and out the front door.
“Lady Quill! Lady Quill,” called Quill’s handmaid, Lauren, as she rushed over to her, eyes wide in panic. She grabbed onto Quill’s wrist, tugging violently. “It is the lady of the house! Your mother, Lady Quill! She has fallen off of the horse and hasn’t awoken! Come, your father has sent for you! Come Lady Quill!”
Quill didn’t even think twice about it, sprinting faster than any woman could in a gown, pulling Lauren with her. Her mother, although holding no magical power, was magical to Quill. Her mother could cure any illness she got, scare away any fears, and escape death. Now, Quill had a feeling her mother could not escape this fate, and it made bile rise and panic cloud her mind.
“Where is she, Lauren? Where is your mistress?” Her tone was harsh, although she didn’t mean it to be. Lauren understood, telling her of the location before giving Quill the reins to her favorite stallion and watching her ride into the woods. There wasn’t a question in Quill’s mind as to where her parents were. They were in her favorite spot, the spot that she planned to go after her 19th birthday.
Quill’s horse ran faster than ever, as if sensing her distress. Hopping over tree limbs and shrubs as if they were nothing, and getting her to the clearing in no time. When the horse did slow, Quill nearly fell off of him, gasping at the scene before her. On the forest floor, in her father’s lap, was her mother. Her skin pale as a ghost and eyes open, unseeingly. She wasn’t breathing anymore and there was a pool of blood around her father as he held her to him tightly, as if it was possible to bring her back.
He sobbed into her mother’s hair, stroking the side of her pale face, unintelligible words being muffled into her lifeless skin. Quill’s father had never cried. Not when his sister died. Not when Marcus was born. Not when Quill had shot him in the foot with an arrow. And to Quill, that was the scariest thing of all.
“Father!” She vaulted of of the horse, rushing in a way that shouldn’t have been humanly possible, over to her weeping father and deceased mother, dropping to her knees. Her eyes didn’t shed a tear, oddly enough, but her heart broke in two as she looked at her parents. She thanked the gods above that Marcus was out.
“We have to help her Quill! She, she can’t be dead! We have to revive her,” Sir Thomas’s desperation spoke for him. The spell that would revive his wife would take another’s life, and he knew it was forbidden. Yet again, Quill was terrified. “Please just…”
Quill dragged her father away, pushing her mother out of her father’s arms and holding him in her own. She pushed his face against her shoulder, shielding him from the sight before them, and cooing soothing words into his ear, yet not shedding a tear as she looked coldly at her dead mother. Something felt okay about it, like it was meant to happen.
After that day, she helped her father onto his horse, sending him home as she collected the body, covering her mother in her cloak before swinging both herself and her mother onto her horse before going home, planning the funeral, and throwing herself into her passions, her magic. For an entire year she did this, assisting her father in doing things that Marcus couldn’t.
She hunted and healed. She cooked and cleaned. She supported them and entertained them. And it all went well. The search for the now missing prince was underway and her family needed he and she was happy to oblige. All she was doing, was waiting until she turned 19.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alexander strode through the village, ignoring the lustful stares of the young girls and women of his kingdom. He had come to see a young lady, the daughter of the recently deceased blacksmith and a recently widowed sorceress, said to be the most beautiful girl in the kingdom. His onyx cape flowed effortlessly behind him, on his shoulder, the proud crest of his people; a shield of black and gold with a proud silver helmet place upon it, the plumes in the colors that graced the shield. He wore his armor in hopes of impressing the young woman without the use of his title.
The crooning of girls blocked out all other street noise from the cobblestone pathway, normally bustling with people going in and out of the shoppes. The prince didn't particularly like it, but it was good for when he was looking for something to keep him busy, like he was now. Right now though, it was distracting. He wanted to play with this girl, and without the cloak of the false loyalty he planned to pledge to her, that would ruin his plan. He had heard tales of the old sorceress and the bond she held with her daughter. She was not to be trifled with.
“Prince Alexander! Prince Alexander!” The voice was an annoyance to the prince, but he smiled fondly as he paused in his stride, girls turning their gazes to the young son of Sir Thomas Pentagram, Marcus. The young squire rushed to the prince’s side, eyes wide and mischievous as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “My father has sent me to assist you in your quest to get herbs for the physician. Something about the king wanting a strong guard with you. They chose me!”
The thought of young Marcus being a “strong man” was laughable. He was the only known child of the sorcerer who had found himself in the king’s good graces and become a knight, but he was nothing like Sir Thomas. He was small, two heads shorter than the shortest knight the kingdom had, far too thin, and had very little muscle mass. The boy could barely lift a sword or ride a horse for sport. His father and Sir Thomas had obviously tried to get him out of their hair and thought that now would have been a good time to have him start off on his training. The boy was a four years younger than him and owned his own estate, yet had no real skill. Alexander just wished that they had chosen a different time because an annoying little boy would not help him seduce a girl.
“Okay, Marcus. I have to go to the blacksmith’s home and have a conversation. You are to stay outside and make sure nobody comes in. We are discussing something top secret information that must not be out in the village.” Marcus had nodded with an eager smile like any naive child, which he was, and followed as Alexander began to walk down the road again, a smug look across his face.
It took them around three minutes to reach the home of the deceased blacksmith, where Alexander knocked gently on the door after giving Marcus a look before opening the door and heading in. There was little noise coming from any of the rooms in the building, only a slight flickering from the back room.
“Good lady? Are you in sorceress?” Alexander’s inquiry was answered by a mumble and a few crashes from the back room before a thin woman with obvious age mixing with stunning beauty, stumbled out. Her brown hair, streaked with grey and hanging in her face. She had a light blush covering her cheeks, accenting her sharp blue eyes. She wore an extravagant gown, gray and blue swirling in patterns that made Alexander’s mind spin. The woman did not look up, only bustled over to a bookshelf and began running her index finger along titles, probably looking for one in specific.
“My name is Eleanor, good sir. You may call me as such. Now what may I get her?” The woman continued to search through her collection. Each one she looked at was written in a strange tongue, unreadable if you ask Alexander. After a long period of silence, Eleanor turns around, face cold and void of emotion until she gazes upon her prince, she blushes brightly and turns her face to the floor, mumbling apologies. “I am so sorry my lord! I was foolish and should not have spoken in such a manner. I beg your forgiveness! You must understand I wasn’t thinking clearly with my husband’s recent passing.”
“Calm yourself. I forgive you and you need not worry. I came here to ask permission to court your daughter.” Alexander saw no point in drawing this out, going straight to the point. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. He wanted to play with his new plaything as soon as possible.
“Why?” The question was simple enough, the thing was, other than her reputation and the gossip he had heard, he knew nothing of Katrina, the sorceress’s powerless daughter. He knew she was beautiful, the people in the kingdom raved about her goddess-like appearence and all of the artists wanted to use her as their muse. He also knew she was skilled in cooking due to the kind advice of past suitors. He knew she was intelligent and knew how to make swords just like her father, something that was very attractive to him. And he also knew everyone was afraid of her mother’s wrath. If he answered incorrectly, a lot of bad things could happen.
“I have admired her from a far, my good lady. She has an extraordinary smile and a good sense of humor. I hear she takes after her father and can work the shoppe quite well. She also has this amazing ability in the kitchen and was trained to sew by her wonderful mother. To tell you the truth, I would be honored to just gaze upon her, let alone attempt to steal her heart. I am asking you for the chance to try though,” Alexander explain, hoping that his act would pan out.
Silence was the answer Alexander received and his face remained in the practiced, hopeful expression while his mind was already planning to find his next chase. This would be a disappointing loss, but nothing to lose sleep over. He hadn’t even seen Katrina, so what loss would it be? He knows her reputation, but he could find a million girls who would be just as beautiful if not more.
“My prince, I doubt even if I said no, you would heed my words. So yes, you may attempt to court my daughter. I will call her for you now,” the aging sorceress smiled, returning to the back room and leaving a shocked Alexander in her wake. The woman was stubborn, he had heard the late blacksmith speak of her and how pig headed she could be. He expected a blatant no and harsh glare, not anything like the warm, humorous answer he got.
When the woman did return, she came with the girl who he had come for. The young Katrina was indeed beautiful. Alexander had never seen a girl who could compare to the sorceress’s daughter’s beauty. She was young, her appearance made that extremely clear. Her hair fell in fiery red, pin straight locks around her bare shoulders, sweeping softly against her chest and back. Her eyes were a soft brown, filled with a childish light that made her look that much younger. She wore a light blue, off the shoulder dress that looked like she was born to wear it, and it revealed pale, snowy skin.
“My lord,” the girl mumbled as she bowed her head and curtsied. Alexander could see the light blush upon her cheeks as she looked up at him through her lashes before looking back down to the dirt floor and blushing even more.
“Please, call me Alexander. No need for formalities, love. Now,” Alexander looked to Eleanor and back, “Shall we go for a walk? I would like to discuss some things with Katrina alone, and I am sure you would like to get back to whatever it was you are doing.”
Alexander and Katrina walked out of the blacksmith’s shop and sent Marcus home, continuing to walk through the village and talk. This is what they did for the rest of the day, Alexander learning a lot about Katrina, which he regretted ever listening to because he didn’t want a life story. He learned about Katrina’s disappointment that she didn't inherit her mother’s powers, how she only ever wanted to learn to read and write, how she had always wanted a prince of her own and so on.
The courting went on until Alexander could tell Katrina was falling for him. He bluntly told her that it was all a lie, that he never wanted her, that he could never truly love a sorceress’s daughter. Katrina had run home in tears and later it was made that she had taken her own life. Alexander thought nothing of it. Girls could be like that and he planned to leave a lot of broken hearts behind.
The thing is he should have known better. He should have remembered Katrina’s mother, who she was, what she could do because the sorceress only had her daughter left in the world. She would not let the heartbreak and death of her daughter go without hurting the prince. So when Alexander had gone out on a solo hunting trip, she looked into his fate, seeing his future, and cursing him in a way that would end the same as what had happened to her and her daughter. Death and heartbreak.
“From this day on, the young and treacherous Prince Alexander shall be condemned to a fate that can only cause him pain. He shall transform into a stag until the time that he falls in love with the one he is destined to and until she loves him back. Then and only then may he transform back into a prince.”
.+.+.+.+.
Quill sat in her sleeping chamber waving her hand soundlessly, creating small streaks of light in front of her face. Her younger brother, Marcus, had been sent to tend to the prince, whom she had never met and never wanted to. The manor was silent and she was absolutely bored. Her father was off who knows where with her mother, probably practicing magic to amuse her while she sat home alone, unable to go out because her father didn’t want the legendary sorceress, his only daughter, to go out and be put off by some snide comment about her being interested in unlady-like things, such as hunting.
That was another thing entirely. As far as the rest of the kingdom knew, Marcus was the only child Quill’s father had. When Quill was born, her father had known exactly what her destiny was, as most sorcerers can tell. She had a destiny written in legends, something that would make her almost as infamous as Melin himself, and he protected her from the world’s eye in order to keep her safe. Quill loathed this, but in a way, she knew he was right. The arrangement was that until her 19th birthday, that she was to stay hidden, and for that, he non magical brother could be the only known offspring of the king’s knight and court sorcerer. After that, she could go out into the world and explore.
Seeing as today was her eighteenth birthday, she was longing for the coming year to pass quickly. She planned to go into the woods, the place she found the most comfortable, to spend around a year practicing magic, studying literature, exploring musical activities, and hunting. It was something that ever since she could understand her father’s words, she had planned to do.
When she was born, her father had only ever wanted to have a son. At the time, there was no chance of her mother having another child. She had fallen ill and there was a high probability she wouldn’t survive, although she did. Her father taught her to hunt, and when he finally got a son, continued to teach her in the art, making her a great huntress. She loved hunting, and the woods were her favorite place.
No noise could be heard now except for the almost inaudible sound of her power, surging through the air. It was utterly silent until there was a sharp cry coming from just outside the manor. It startled Quill, only enough to stun her momentarily before she was off like a shot, down the corridors and out the front door.
“Lady Quill! Lady Quill,” called Quill’s handmaid, Lauren, as she rushed over to her, eyes wide in panic. She grabbed onto Quill’s wrist, tugging violently. “It is the lady of the house! Your mother, Lady Quill! She has fallen off of the horse and hasn’t awoken! Come, your father has sent for you! Come Lady Quill!”
Quill didn’t even think twice about it, sprinting faster than any woman could in a gown, pulling Lauren with her. Her mother, although holding no magical power, was magical to Quill. Her mother could cure any illness she got, scare away any fears, and escape death. Now, Quill had a feeling her mother could not escape this fate, and it made bile rise and panic cloud her mind.
“Where is she, Lauren? Where is your mistress?” Her tone was harsh, although she didn’t mean it to be. Lauren understood, telling her of the location before giving Quill the reins to her favorite stallion and watching her ride into the woods. There wasn’t a question in Quill’s mind as to where her parents were. They were in her favorite spot, the spot that she planned to go after her 19th birthday.
Quill’s horse ran faster than ever, as if sensing her distress. Hopping over tree limbs and shrubs as if they were nothing, and getting her to the clearing in no time. When the horse did slow, Quill nearly fell off of him, gasping at the scene before her. On the forest floor, in her father’s lap, was her mother. Her skin pale as a ghost and eyes open, unseeingly. She wasn’t breathing anymore and there was a pool of blood around her father as he held her to him tightly, as if it was possible to bring her back.
He sobbed into her mother’s hair, stroking the side of her pale face, unintelligible words being muffled into her lifeless skin. Quill’s father had never cried. Not when his sister died. Not when Marcus was born. Not when Quill had shot him in the foot with an arrow. And to Quill, that was the scariest thing of all.
“Father!” She vaulted of of the horse, rushing in a way that shouldn’t have been humanly possible, over to her weeping father and deceased mother, dropping to her knees. Her eyes didn’t shed a tear, oddly enough, but her heart broke in two as she looked at her parents. She thanked the gods above that Marcus was out.
“We have to help her Quill! She, she can’t be dead! We have to revive her,” Sir Thomas’s desperation spoke for him. The spell that would revive his wife would take another’s life, and he knew it was forbidden. Yet again, Quill was terrified. “Please just…”
Quill dragged her father away, pushing her mother out of her father’s arms and holding him in her own. She pushed his face against her shoulder, shielding him from the sight before them, and cooing soothing words into his ear, yet not shedding a tear as she looked coldly at her dead mother. Something felt okay about it, like it was meant to happen.
After that day, she helped her father onto his horse, sending him home as she collected the body, covering her mother in her cloak before swinging both herself and her mother onto her horse before going home, planning the funeral, and throwing herself into her passions, her magic. For an entire year she did this, assisting her father in doing things that Marcus couldn’t.
She hunted and healed. She cooked and cleaned. She supported them and entertained them. And it all went well. The search for the now missing prince was underway and her family needed he and she was happy to oblige. All she was doing, was waiting until she turned 19.
A.N- This was a snippet of my new story, inspired by my fascination with myths about sorcerers and Arthurian legends. I hope you enjoy it!
-Amanda L. Marcus
-Amanda L. Marcus