Prolouge
Dorian Havilliard woke with a start. Images from his nightmares flashed before his eyes before disappearing, forever lost to the labyrinth of his subconscious. He buried his face in his hands and groaned. Somewhere outside a rooster crowed, and the young king begrudgingly left the comfort his bed.
He quickly dressed before the servants could lay a hand on him. Dorian scarfed down half a loaf of bread, before strutting out of his room. The two guards posted at his door stiffened. He strode away before they could alert a group of guards to escort him wherever.
Dorian made swiftly for the library. He slipped in as some courtiers rounded a corner. Dorian let out a sigh of relief. He wanted to be alone right now- no guards, servants, or aristocrats breathing down his neck. He thought being a prince came with its suffocating formalities and traditions, however being monarch came many more.
Dorian roamed aimlessly through the shelves, occasionally examining a book. He wasn't in the mood read, though. He found himself wandering deep into the library. He remembered exploring it for weeks before his mother found out and reprimanded him.
His mother. The woman who he both loved and loathed. The graceful queen never let her disguise slip. Never- except once. Dorian was a young boy, barely into his teens, when he peered around a corner and saw his mother talking to her hand. He thought this was curious, especially because the her hand seemed to have a dark tattoo etched on its surface. Dorian never wondered what was underneath his mother's silk gloves; he never thought twice about asking her why she always wore them. Now it seemed obvious.
Dorian's mother hadn't noticed him. He couldn't catch much, as she whispered in a soft, hallow voice, "I know you're listening-" the queen sounded frantic, "-I know you're there. Please, soon it will be too late. It may already be too late... have taken control of him... kingdom is going to fall...with his command the world will burn..."
The woman was whispering now, barely audible. However, whoever might have been listening didn't deign to make an appearance, or sudden rescue. Dorian didn't understand why his mother was so upset. He considered confronting her about it. In the end, he decided to walk away.
His footsteps must have echoed because his mother called after him, "Dorian? Is that you?"
Dorian stepped around the corner. His mother in a heap on the floor. Her face was red and her eyes were puffy. She gaped at him, "Oh, won't you come here, dear boy," She chided, "Won't you help your poor mother to her feet? There you are- thank you. I don't suppose you heard any of that, did you?"
Not wanting to upset his mother any further, Dorian answered, "No, Mother."
He escorted her back to her rooms, where she called for some quiet. Dorian assumed her nerves were getting the best of her, however he had never seen her so shaken ever- or ever since.
Dorian blinked. He was back in the library, staring into space. He took a deep breath, relishing the cold feeling that filled his lungs. He was alone... surely no one would know.
Dorian closed his eyes and cleared his mind. His lip twitched upward as a cold flake landed on his nose. Sure enough, Dorian had made it snow in his little corner of the library. He watched it for a moment as it floated effortlessly to the ground. He was interrupted by the slamming open of the library door.
At first, Dorian was upset that his royal guard had caught up with him. However, when he shot up to leave, he saw something rather peculiar.
A servant girl (one Dorian recognized as wearing the uniform that his mother had her personal servants wear) was rushing away, as if she was trying to hide. She clutched a book to her chest. Every so often she would check to see if she was being followed. Dorian hadn't even noticed himself sneaking after her.
Finally, when she thought she had found a deserted corridor, the servant girl sat against the wall and tentatively opened the book. She must have read it before, because Dorian saw her flipping to find a certain page.
He watched her begin to read the book. Every so often she would gasp or giggle and Dorian would jump, thinking he'd been caught. He secretly envied her; he wanted to know what she was reading. He could just ask her, and she would be obliged to tell him. But for some reason, Dorian couldn't get himself to move.
"Esmeralda! There you are!" A large woman who also wore the queen's uniform stomped in, furious. The servant girl yelped in surprise. "Where have you been? Sneaking off to the library again? Ever since the queen gave you permission to come in here-"
"I'm sorry Mrs. Dean," Esmeralda said. Dorian noticed her slide the book onto a shelf behind her without looking. Mrs. Dean hadn't seemed to see, or care. Dorian's breath caught. If the servant girl was to leave- "I had a free hour. I must have lost track of time. I can work late tonight."
"There's no need," Mrs. Dean sighed, "I certainly expect better from you from now on. I don't want you to force me to demote you, however-"
"I know, Mrs. Dean," Esmeralda moaned.
"And don't interrupt me. Come, let's stop wasting time. We've work to do."
Dorian watched the two servants walk off until he rushed to the shelf and found the book the girl was reading. Holding his breath, he opened it.
The book seemed to be a diary of sorts, though to whomever it belonged to Dorian could not guess. The entries were dated some twenty years previous. He wondered how the young servant girl got her hands on such a thing. He thought he might toss it off, considering he wasn't much for gossip. The prospect of reading someone's diary however, tempted him.
He opened to the first page.