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Chapter 1: Marion Ravenwood

Chicago, Illinios, USA, 1909

Doctor Abner Ravenwood smiled as he walked out of the maternity ward. He finally had an heir. He would've preferred a boy, but one couldn't control these things. And his wife couldn't bear another child. The doctors said it would be too dangerous. She and the child would probably die.

Abner had a book, that'd been passed down his family for generations, tucked under his arm. He slipped into the men's room and smiled when he saw it was empty. Without another thought, he opened the book and watched as the words appeared on the paper.

Born on the twenty-third day

Of the third month

Of the year nineteen hundred and nine

Princess Marion shall bear the seventh holiness

To the hero of this century

Princess Marion? And Hazel had named their baby Marion Violet Amber. And the twenty-third day of the third month of the year nineteen hundred and nine…that was today. A slow smile spread across Abner's face. Finally, after all these years the Ravenwoods would return to their rightful place.

Abner just needed a few things. One of which was Marion's complete ignorance.

1916

Seven year old Marion Ravenwood quietly slipped into her parents' bedroom. Her mother laid on the bed, covered in dark lines. Marion tip-toed over, passing her father's desk, and touched her mother's hand.

Hazel opened her eyes and smiled. 'You never let anyone tell you "no", do you, sweetie?'

Marion shook her head. 'I want you to be better, mommy.'

'I wish I could.' Hazel laid her hand on Marion's hair. 'But my mother and my sister both died of this. I will too. With any luck, you'll be spared.'

Tears clouded Marion's vision and she whimpered. 'I don't want you to die!'

'It's my time, baby,' Hazel said. 'But I want you to do a favour for me.'

Marion wiped her eyes. She had to be brave for her mother and do this. She nodded.

Hazel smiled. 'In the top shelf of your daddy's desk, there's a book. It's called the Royal Psalms. Take it and hide it until you're twelve. Then, I want you to take it out and open it. Touch the pages and everything will become clear to you.'

'I promise, mommy.'

~NQM~

Abner walked into the bedroom, where his dying wife was. That was fair enough. She'd never been keen on his little plan, but she could do nothing about it. Abner sat down at his desk and opened the top drawer. He froze.

'Hazel?'

'Hm?' Too weak to lift her head.

'Where's the Royal Psalms?'

'You usually keep it in your top drawer, don't you?'

'It's gone.'

'Well, I didn't take it. And Marion doesn't even know it's there. Are you sure you haven't moved it somewhere else?'

Abner thought about that. He was certain he didn't, but he had been rather tired last night. He may have put it down in an odd place. He stood up and went to look.

1921

Marion was finally twelve. She dug in her underwear drawer, the one place that Abner would never look, and pulled out the Royal Psalms. She didn't understand her mother's final request, but she would honour it.

Marion sat at her desk and opened the book. The pages were blank. That was weird. Why would her parents care so much about an empty book? Maybe she was missing something. Marion laid her hands on the pages so she could scrutinise the pages better and information suddenly flowed into her.

Now she understood.

~NQM~

Abner hummed to himself as he walked into his study, where he now had his work desk. Henry Jones Junior was showing as much promise as his name would suggest. His father was a great archaeologist and he was shaping into one himself. A bum, yes, but the most gifted bum Abner had ever trained.

Abner opened his desk drawer and froze. The Royal Psalms, missing for five years, was back in its drawer. And that meant it could have been taken by only one person. He stood up, grabbed it and marched out, up the stairs and to Marion's bedroom. He slammed the door open and she looked up from the book she was reading.

'You took this?' Abner shook the Psalms at her.

Marion looked back at her novel. 'No, I found it.'

'So you put it in my desk drawer?' Abner demanded.

Marion shrugged and went back to her book. She wasn't going to be admitting to taking it, Abner could see that much from the small action. And, technically, he couldn't punish her for something he couldn't say for certain that she did. He'd learned the hard way that there was nothing his little girl took greater pleasure in than revenge.

Paris, France, 1923

Abner had heard of this woman and he organised an appointment with her. He followed her butler up the stairs and into a study. The woman had long blonde hair, blue eyes, a figure most women would kill for and she looked to be only in her mid-twenties.

The butler presented him. 'Professor Ravenwood, mademoiselle.'

The woman looked up. 'Merci, monsieur Franco.' She waved her hand in dismissal and the butler went. 'Professor, please sit down.' It would be so that she spoke perfect English, albeit with a thick French accent.

Abner sat down opposite her. 'Marie Bouir?'

'As I am, oui,' Marie said. 'What can I do you for?'

Abner reached into his bag and pulled out the Royal Psalms. He set it on the table between them. As he let go, he made sure he opened it slightly and then let it drop closed. 'What do you make of that?'

Marie leaned forward and picked up the book. Of course, it would allow her to lift it if it was her ancestors that saved his. She attempted to open it. The pages wouldn't budge for her. She nodded, then put it back down.

'The Royal Psalms,' she said. 'And you can open it. You would be a direct descendant of Louis XVII, then?'

Abner nodded. 'I am. He moved to England and changed his name to Charles Ravenwood. Or rather, his guardians changed his name. And you are descended from the man that saved him?'

Marie leaned back in the chair. 'What is it you would like me to do, sir?'

'Help me fulfil the prophecy.' Abner opened the Psalms and laid his hand on the page. The prophecy from the day Marion was born appeared on the page.

Marie stood up and walked around. She read it and lightly chuckled to herself, whispering something under her breath. Abner heard the word "monarch". She then looked at him and walked back around to her seat.

Sitting down, she said, 'I have seen a prophecy like it, sir. Of course, you realise France may object to the return of the royal family?'

'I thought of that.' Abner nodded. 'That's what I need the Ark of the Covenant for.'

Marie raised her eyebrows. 'You intend to scare the country into submission?'

'Of course not!' Abner drew back.

'It looks that way.' Marie's expression turned stoic. 'May I advise you, sir, that your current course of action could have you and your family looked back on as tyrants more presumptuous than already considered? You may even get yourself and your daughter beheaded.' She held up a finger. 'And there is no "Scarlet Pimpernel" figure to save you now.'

'I haven't told you all of it, yet,' Abner said. 'We will have the full backing of this hero.' He pointed to the words. 'You see here, it says that my daughter will bear the seventh holiness to him. I am the fifth generation off the throne. Marion is the sixth. Her child will be the seventh. And I am sure "holiness" refers to a return to power.'

Marie stared at the words for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever. Then she nodded. 'I would not disagree with you there. It is a seventh heir born of your daughter and a hero.' She looked up at Abner. 'I will help.' The pulled a pad of paper in front of her and pulled out her quill. 'Just give me a moment. I have a habit of keeping every prophecy I come across.'