It was a stormy night. Lightning struck the earth and rain fell so thick you could not see past you nose. But that did not stop the gypsies from guarding the Court of Miracles.

Nor did it stop the King's soldiers from invading.

Everything was in complete chaos. Our haven had never seen such hate and destruction. Shops were overturned with colorful fabrics and food spilling onto the streets. They easily doubled our numbers. Even so, we were able to escape and most of us lost the them through the winding alleys of Paris. But others were not so fortunate.

As I was trying to help my dear Emeline find a safe hideaway, which was no easy task in the dark of night, mind you, I saw a group of my fellow gypsies, my comrades, surrounded by the demons clad in metal. I heard angered shouts and screams, a sound that will always haunt me. And once they started to fall, I knew what I had to do.

"What did you do, grand-père?"

oOo

A small child gazed up at the aging storyteller with eyes full of innocence and wonder. The older man chuckled warmly as he bent down, picking up his granddaughter with a grunt and a creak in his bones. He tapped her nose and said, "Ah, ma petite, you know this story as well as I. How about you tell me the best part?"

She nodded energetically, a lock of dark curly hair falling between her eyes. Taking in a deep breath, as if the telling would require all of her strength, her light voice began to finish the tale, though clumsier than the older man's articulation. "You quickly told grand- mere- I mean Emeline- to run. Thunder rolled and rain became heavier, but you kept running faithfully toward your friends. The bow and arrows on you back reminded you that you had a chance to save them. Or at least create a dis…di-"

"Distraction, ma petite."

"Distraction. All you needed was one shot. One moment for the soldiers to lose focus. So you aimed your bow at the leader and let go," She made a demonstration, " The arrow sped through the air and struck his heart. Your plan had worked!" Her voice was rapturous. "You, alongside your brothers, took them down in their moment of shock and claimed the rest as prisoners. Everyone went back to the Court of Miracles to recover and watch their etsectution." The little girl stopped with a puzzled look on her face. "Hey, grand-père? What's an etsecution?"

"That's execution. And-"

"Nadia, it's nearing your bedtime."

A woman of twenty walked in, the gold colored bangles making a pleasant sound as she motioned for her daughter.

Ignoring her, whether deliberately or not, the girl instead regarded grandfather as if he was adorned in beautiful robes of color and shimmering white wings. "Grand-père, I want to be like you. I want to save people in distress and stand against those nasty soldiers. It sounds so fantastic!"

Her grandfather laughed and patted her back, the crow's feet that framed his grey eyes deepening as he smiled, "The Court would be deeply honored to have you as a protector. But, my little Nadia, that comes with great responsibility. And great responsibility," he stood up, holding the little gypsy child, "starts with a good night's sleep."

"But, I'm not tired!" she whined.

"You are going to bed, Nadia." The woman ushered her to the bedroom they shared, small feet dragging irritably on the dirt packed floor. She looked over her shoulder at her father in disapproval and began to chastise him through clenched teeth, "I thought I said not to tell her such violent stories."

He, in turn, smiled and waved her off, "Oh, I told you the same tale when you were her age," he chuckled, "though, you were not as enthralled as she, Dejah."

The woman rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched, "That is because it's a tale for rambunctious boy, not little girls."

"Well, it appears you have a rambunctious girl!"

"You don't have to tell me that." Dejah left the room to tend to her child.

The bedroom was small, too small to accommodate three people. Just four walls and a dirt floor, but it was all they had, so they made do. Beside the worn straw mattress was another of a reduced scale that held Nadia. The thread-bare blanket outlined her form, which showed signs of weariness. Dejah began tucking her in, softly humming a Romani lullaby.

"Mama?"

"Yes, mon ange?" She stopped humming and stroked Nadia's wild mane. The girl looked at her, expelling fatigue through a great yawn, "Do you think I could be like grand-père?"

The hand at her hair halted briefly, not knowing how to answer, "Well…yes." She lied. What could one white lie do to a child? If it meant not hurting her feelings… "But…there are many other things you can be, too. Less dangerous things."

Nadia shook her head languidly with fluttering eyes, "No…I want to be…a..hero." Her head flopped to the side, losing the battle with sleep.

Dejah sighed and kissed her daughter's forehead. She prayed that Nadia's desire to fight and protect was just a phase, something she would, eventually, grow out.

If only she knew how wrong she was.

oOo

Thonk!

The shining blade lodged itself into the makeshift target…But, just barely.

"Damn!" Nadia cursed, stomping over to the target and pulling the knife out. "Missed again." That might have missed, but the daggers she glared hit the mark.

"Nadia, you really should not curse," Dejah reprimanded, setting the basket of washed clothes on the grass. "It's unladylike."

"Mother, one could hardly call me a lady." She replied sarcastically as she flicked a shard of wood off the blade. In turn, her mother took the knife and handed her a wad of clothes, "Now, enough of that. Start helping."

The younger woman began to hang the garments on the clothes line, the warm sunlight shining through the thin fabrics. "I'm glad Papa is coming home today. Running the shop is really…mundane." Sure, it may have been her father's dream to have a successful carpentry business, but it definitely was not hers to sit behind a counter and take orders while he went to stock up on supplies. Still, it was difficult to say no to her parents.

Dejah stooped down to pick up a chemise, "I know it is difficult for you to stay idle, being at the shop these past two weeks, but your father appreciates it."

Nadia paused, absently smoothing out the clothing in front of her. "I-I know that. But…" She struggled, deciding whether or not she should say what she wanted to say. More often than not, it ended up with a scolding. "It's the same thing day in and day out. There's no excitement!"

"Oh Nadia, don't start this now. Not today!" She rubbed her forehead , exasperated. "That will be the last thing your father will want to hear when he arrives."

"But-"

Dejah held up a silencing hand, "I said no. That is the end of it."

It was obvious the conversation wasn't going to go any further, so the two were quiet as they continued with the chores, though Nadia's mind was stewing angrily. It was always the same fiasco. Anytime she uttered a word of complaint, her parents made sure there was room for no more, thrusting guilt upon her for not 'appreciating the blessings they had'. It's not that I'm ungrateful… she thought pensively. But, the rest trailed away as she spotted the silhouette of a figure walking the dirt trail near their home. She hooked the clothes line and tugged it down slightly to get a better look. "Mother? Who is that?"

A disgruntled frown graced Dejah's face, "I do not know."

Upon inspection, Nadia saw the man, as it turned out to be, carried himself with a severe limp. But that was not what rattled her and caused her to elicit a gasp, "I-is that…?"

Dejah interrupted, her face now morbid, "Blood."

A/N: Okay, first chapter! I've been dying to write this story for a long time, but I forced myself to research into the original story, characters, time era, and yada yada yada which actually turned out to be pretty interesting and fun.

I know it is very short, but I wanted this chapter to be more of a prologue. Also, if I continued on, the chapter would've been ridiculously long and the end wouldn't have had as much of an impact/ cliffhanger. Don't worry; you'll have more of a backstory in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading!