The sun filtered in through the shutters in the large windows that lined the side of the room, the light streamed through the flower pattern carved into the shutters and made multiple flowers appear on the floor of the room. The room looked as if it was a study but on the higher level there was a large bed that had some of the finest linen covering it, usually the bed cover would be crisp and unused but at that particular time a woman was sat of the edge of it. She was the first thing that Ethorn Aguilon had noticed; his eyes were immediately drawn to her figure that seemed small in comparison to the large bed. Her long raven black hair was pinned up and her pale skin was covered with a pale blue dress.

"My Lady?"

She stood and Ethorn's eyes flickered to the swell of her stomach that seemed to want to burst through the pale blue material of her dress. She would be due any day now and the palace had been in such high expectations of another little Prince, it would be her fourth child but there was something different this time. The woman felt no sickness or discomfort; it was almost as though she wasn't with child at all.

"Ethorn," she breathed through pale pink lips in what he imagined was relief. He gave her a swift bow never breaking eye contact with her violet eyes that seemed to stare into his soul, able to pierce into his skin and veins to see what truly was there. Nothing but skin and bones he believed. But she did not.

She rolled her eyes and the corner of her lip twitched up, "Enough of the formalities Ethorn we have known each other long enough to not have to be polite to each other!"

"We have not known each other that long, Marcella."

He took a seat in one of the armchairs on the lower level where books lined the wall at the head of the room along with a fire place. He watched her as she wobbled over to the chair opposite him, when she stepped down from the higher level Ethorn went to stand to assist her but Marcella raised a delicate hand and stopped him. He relaxed in his seat when she was sitting across from him and she rested her hands on her swollen stomach and let out a slight laugh that to anyone else but Ethorn would some like a scoff.

"I've known you longer than my husband!"

"You married him as soon as you came of age, you were but a child," he leaned forward to make his point while locking eyes with her, "you are still." He whispered the last part as he sat back against the chair.

The room filled with silence as Marcella studied him, violet eyes skimming over every curve and line. He had tanned skin from travelling in the sun often and varied sizes of scars that littered his skin from training, battles, or even fights that he got himself into and when she would see him after he got a new one she would promptly flick him on the forehead with her fingers before cleaning them and healing them. He wore his usual uniform that he had worn since he swore to protect her and her family; he was the commander of the Queen's Guard and the youngest man ever to be in the position. But he had protected her before that for her father, Ethorn had been born and raised with their people and when Marcella then married to form an allegiance between them and another kind he went with her as a promise to her father. His long brown hair sat in waves past his broad shoulders and framed his-what most women called handsome-face, it was defined with a strong jaw, full lips, a light scar that curved down from above his brow to under his left eye. His body was muscular, for it would have to be as he was the commander, and he was taller than most men. His eyes were different to most of her people who had violet or purple eyes but Ethorn did not, his were a blue colour that in certain lights resembled a blue-violet colour.

Marcella turned her head to look at the lit fireplace, it burned in her eyes as a frown was wore upon her lips. "You know why I asked you here."

Ethorn sighed and ran a hand along his jaw, "It is a girl isn't it?"

Both of them closed their eyes when she nodded, Ethorn stood and began pacing before her with his fists clenching and unclenching. "Maginar is going to kill you, no, he will maul you with his teeth! Once he heard of the prophecy that was made after the birth of your youngest son he threatened that if you bare a daughter he would take your head from your shoulders and burn the children as a sacrifice!" he scoffed and Marcella stood before him taking his face in her hands as she searched his eyes.

"What would you have me do?" she whispered "even if had a son Sauron would still come and burn our city to the ground, it is only a matter of time!"

"Then why do you stay here? Why haven't you warned anyone?" he griped her wrists and his thumb traced the triangle birth mark on her wrist.

"Because," she breathed as she leaned her forehead against his chest, "it is the only way that will make her live."

Ethorn forced her to face him, his jaw was clenched and his eyes hardened and for a second Marcella felt fear toward her friend, her dear friend. "I will not let you die."

"You must," she pulled away from him and looked out the window "I need you to be here for her, I need you to survive that is why I'm sending you to the lands of Men when the child has grown in four years' time."

Ethorn stared at her with scrunched eyebrows, he would not leave her, not now not ever. He would not leave his Queen. He ran a hand through his hair, he kept it long because he had never lost a battle and he would not lose this fight. He began to protest but she silenced him, "I am to die with my people and you shall be far away. Promise me that when you leave you do not look back, when she has matured she will find you and you are to guide her as you have guided me. She is our only hope."

Ethorn couldn't listen they were still children for Gods' sake but he could not disobey her. He watched her as the breeze from outside tangled its fingers in her hair and she looked at peace, he loved her and always had but he was just her servant.

He cleared his throat before asking, "And what is to be the child's name?"

"Eliana, it means daughter of the sun."

And soon the night came when the child was born, the bells had tolled in the church throughout the birth, the King was nowhere to be seen and this made the servants think strange as he had been at the births of all of his sons but then this was a girl-a Princess for the Schimbator. Ethorn had knelt at Marcella's side throughout the long night, he griped her hand and barked orders at the midwives and healers. They thought that the Queen would not make it through the birth as she had lost a lot of blood, but her stubbornness made her survive and live until the city burned.

Marcella had passed the child to Ethorn and even then he knew that she would look exactly like her mother not a trace of her father in her but the shifter genes but even then it was mild. She was the hope of the city. "Kit, little Kit,"He murmured to the child with lavender eyes.

"What does it mean?" Marcella asked, her chest rose and fell rapidly as her brow was covered with sweat.

"It means Hope."