Chapter One:
Before Time Began…
The dark area was full of lights, bouncing around and around. Some would disappear while other's reappeared. But no two ever touched. Never.
On purpose.
Two lights, two souls, are scheduled for a body, are ready to live. Both are new souls, barely experienced in creation. They aren't cautious, they aren't careful.
And they hit each other.
An explosion goes off, loud and scary. Lights duck for cover, silent screams echoing in nonexistent ears. The two souls are shaking and yelling. Crying for help, but receiving none.
Another flash of white light, and they disappear.
And Samna and Dmain are born.
Chapter Two:
90 B.C.
She is beautiful. Pristine in the way she sleeps. The princess has lain to rest once again, each breath from her small mouth asking the air to keep her alive for one more night. She is tiny and helpless, and it makes him adore her even more.
Dmain is standing by the window, watching the young girl on the bed. The sight breaks his heart, for he loves her the most. Delicate and angelic to the core, she always gazed at him with kindness despite their gap in social standing within the clan. She, the noble leader's beautiful daughter. He, the whore's son.
Oh, how he aches for her. The feeling, the longing, twists his stomach painfully, reminding him of the sick reason he was here.
He is deranged, crazed, but in love.
He crosses the room on silent feet. The cloth, soaked in a certain plant's root liquid ,is in his hand as he prepares himself for this great and tragic error. Hesitating, he asks himself if this is what he really wants.
A shiver slides down the perfect body before him, answering for him. He reaches down and presses the cloth to her nose and mouth.
She awakens, frightened and confused, getting ready to scream for help. Her deep, loving hazel eyes finds his green ones, and he swears, for a second, just before she passes out, that she relaxes and smiles beneath the cloth.
Then her eyes flutter close once again and he removes his hand. It is midnight and all the people are asleep. He has maybe an hour before they discover the princess gone and begin the search for them. He needs to get far away.
Convincing himself that she'll forgive him for touching her without her permission, he scoops the unconscious girl up and hurried from the room.
Dmain gets far, but not far enough. He stops to rest and to set the fair lady down, trying to ignore the panic and worry over the fact that she had not awoken. Surely he didn't…
Fearful, he leans down and checks her pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when he finds the fast, but constant beat of her heart.
He watches her for a second, love for her swirling around his very being. Her dark curls frame her pale face, showing her femininity with every breath. He leans back down, and places a tender kiss to the very top of her head.
"I love you, Sammi." He whispers, broken English but meaning every letter.
It is the last thing he says, before the arrow is shot right through his heart. He gapes down at it for a moment, and then collapses. His last sight is his beautiful princess finally awakening and looking at him with horror and tenderness. He savors and fears her expression, and then dies.
Samna scrambles to her feet, eyes tracing the outline of the perfect man, her Dmain, that she is in love with. He is breathing no more, simply gazing at her in that frozen look of love. No. Her mouth forms the word, but the silent refusal is unheard by the cocky men that exit the trees.
"Come, princess. You are safe from this sick man. Let us return you to your father." One of the guards say, taking her hand and tugging her in the way of the village.
"NO!" She screams it now. Her love is gone. She is nothing anymore. "If he is no longer of this Earth, I will join him on the new one." She snatches the knife from one guard's pocket and runs back to her body.
Dmain is watching. She can feel him placing his arm around her, kissing her cheek. Silently letting her choose her own fate. He will wait. He is willing to wait.
She is not so patient.
One slash. That is all it takes. It hurts, and then it doesn't. Peacefulness floats in and someone takes her hand. The person is tender and loving, guiding her into the new world.
The two soul mates disappear once more in a white light.
And Samuel and Deana are born.
Chapter Three:
400 A.D.
She was quiet, a daisy amongst the roses. The line of girls, all dressed in their finest with painted faces and hope, dancing and singing for his attention, but it was the one that did not move, the one that did not prance like a prized show horse that drew his gaze.
Her eyes were green like the stormy sea, and her skin looked as delicate and smooth as a newborn fawn. Dark tendrils of hair dangled around her face, lightness mixed with the night. A simple, but elegant gown hung from her curvy figure, highlighting her important parts, but not revealing nearly as much as the other girls.
All she did was stare. She looked him directly in the eye, despite his title and overall intimidation methods. It was unnerving and endearing.
His guards awaited his decision patiently. They were trained not to react to emotions or weariness. Cold and quick, they cared not for anything but their jobs. Their stares made him almost irritated.
Finally, he lifted his head higher and stood. The girls went silent, now in a straight line. Their heads went down, eyes on their feet as was the custom when a king was standing. He glanced down the row of twelve girls, all of marrying age, all praying to be his consort.
Once again, she drew his eye. He watched her eyes quickly drop and realized she'd been watching him through her dark lashes. Normally, such activity would be punished, but he couldn't bring himself to willingly bring harm to her. She has such innocence and playfulness about her that reminded him of a child, though his thoughts of her were far from that of a child.
In the end, the choice was all too clear. He raised a hand and pointed straight at her.
Her eyes widened and she gestured towards herself in question. He gave one nod and she smiled, going to take a step forward…
"He was pointing at me, you disgusting wench. Go back to your rapist stepfather and leave the real girls to play." The girl who was standing next to her with fiery red hair smirked. Cruelty danced in her eyes when King Samuel's pretty girl's eyes filled with tears.
Rage, strong and smothering, reared its head inside him. How dare that little…
He walked confidently and quickly toward the witch and the pretty one. The witch was smiling, all sugar and smiles now that he was here.
Her false joy turned to fear as he raised a hand and slapped her across the face. She fell to the ground with a cry, and then looked up at him with fright and confusion. Her hand covered her now red cheek and a tear fell from her heartless blue eyes.
"But, my King…" She whimpered. He drew himself up to his full height and glared down at her with hatred.
"Silence, witch. How dare you insult and emotionally harm your new Queen. You are lucky I have not taken your head already, and if my consort still wishes it, it shall be done." The girl was shaking and sobbing. No pity was given to her as he looked up at his new lovely.
Deana watched the powerful King as he struck the horrid girl. He was commanding and strong and the other girls cowered in front of his might. She simply cocked her head. He was such a fascinating creature, two facades playing out the other. It was simply delicious and lovely.
His words were swiftly delivered and then he was looking at her, the tiniest bit of tenderness visible. He never meant to scare her, and she couldn't reassure him without making him look weak. So she gave him a quick nod and turned her attention to the crying girl.
Deana knew her name. Missy Livens. The daughter of the southern emperor. She knew that her father had told her this was her last chance to redeem herself, or she'd be out on the streets. She had forgiven Missy, even when she brought up the bane of her existence.
Deana walked closer and knelt down beside the girl. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she handed the young girl the end of the gown that Deana had made by hand, the gown that had taken weeks upon weeks of work, and wiped Missy's tears away.
"Don't cry, Missy. Tears will get you no where. That is what he taught me and you must learn. Your father controls your life only as long as you are his property. If he disowns you, you are free to make your own life, as you please. I really do wish you the best." And then she stood, ignoring the shocked looks from everyone around. Even the guards were wide-eyed and awed. Their new Queen was strict, but forgiving and their respect grew for her.
Deana walked towards her King, a small smile on her face. He led her away, to the bedrooms beyond the corridor. There, he lay with her, and then watched her sleep through the night. She was born to be a princess, and yet life had dealt her the hard hand.
When she awoke, King Samuel ordered her stepfather to be brought in. He wanted the bastard dead and his bones carved into a foot stool for his Queen.
The man was grimy and disgusting, daring even to shoot a leer at his former charge. Deana had reluctantly told the tale of what the man had done to her during the trial, so that he could be dealt with.
Her mother had died of mysterious causes, which could unfortunately not be pinned on Marcus Lander. Marcela Winner had been a sweet woman who made some mistakes. Deana was left in the care of Marcus for six years, during which he continually beat and raped her, ignoring the cries of torment and pain. He invited friends, men and women of all ages, to take advantage of the young teenager. She was even forced to perform at partied with other young boys, who were not agreeable either.
He was tried, and as Samuel was both the judge and executioner, the man's head was severed within the hour.
Everything was peaceful, and happy.
Or so it seemed.
Missy Livens was still unhappy of her turn out in life. One bribe and she was in the castle. She locked a sleeping Deana in the King's bedroom while Samuel was in a late-night meeting.
One match.
Missy sat outside the room and listened to the Queen's screams. A smile appeared on her face.
Deana cried for her lover, but no one heard her. The red flames jumped around her, teasing her skin. It burned, it hurt, and it wouldn't stop. She ran around until she twisted her ankle violently on the bed rail. Falling to the ground, she curled in a ball and sobbed.
She sobbed as her clothes caught fire and her skin was charred.
She sobbed for the tiny life inside her that would never know of its wonderful father.
She sobbed for her beautiful Samuel, for she knew that this would break him.
She sobbed until she was only black bones and frayed skin.
Samuel skipped merrily up the steps, eager to return to his perfect Queen. His life was so full of joy since she came. The smell of smoke, however, made his smile disappear, forever.
All of the kingdom heard the roar of anguish that shook the castle walls. Guards rushed up to find their once strong, prideful king on his knees, clawing his own chest open with his hands. Blood and flesh fell to the ground beside the ashes of his beloved. None tried to stop him, for they knew his soul and very essence could not live without her's. Tears slipped down the faces of the once stone cold men.
Samuel didn't feel the pain. He simply wanted death. Wanted it so bad he could taste it. He felt his beloved's hands, misty and soft, pulling at his own. She wanted him to stop, couldn't stand to see him so delirious. He stopped ant stared at her. She was so strong and beautiful. Beside her was a little girl, smiling and waving at the daddy she never met. Blonde curls framed her angelic face and she had her mother's eyes.
He chocked out a sputter, reaching for the girls, his girls, but they were untouchable. He had to have them. He had to join them. Standing, he grabbed the letter opener that his wife had so loved and carved out his heart. It didn't hurt. It did the opposite, bringing him closer to his family. He had turned away from his angels, not wanting them to see him like this.
Deana knew he was stubborn, so she gathered their daughter to her and awaited her lover. His body dropped, but his spirit rose, turning to look at them with such love and hope. She reached out a hand and they walked towards the light.
They were told the news at the gate.
Their daughter, their beloved little angel, was needed somewhere else. She was to go Home and await them.
Samuel and Deana hold hands and disappear once more, ready for another life.
And Drina and Stella were born.
Chapter Four:
1236 A.D.