Prologue

Her ears were ringing.

The little girl's small steps echoed into the silence of the dark gallery, the crimson walls almost pulsing with her movement. She sobbed quietly, small sniffles barely audible in the emptiness.

There were only paintings here. Images. Unmoving and unfeeling. She tucked a lock her brown hair behind her ear before rubbing her nose on her sleeve, leaning onto the wall for support. Her long, red princess gown swept across the tiled floor with a swish. Fingers of one hand felt the surface of the wall and traced the patterns of intricate frames and paintings that she passed along the way.

In the other hand, she gripped a rose, red as her tearful, solemn eyes. The thorns pierced her skin and blood was drawn, but she paid it no mind.

She didn't even pay attention to the way a petal would fall with each weakened step she took.

The ringing in her ears ceased, and the sudden silence caused her to pause in her steps, sobs quieting. She didn't know why she stopped, or why she was so suddenly aching to look around her, but she found herself staring up at two paintings right above where she stood.

One was of a little girl. She had flowing, yellow hair, and lively eyes, her hands clasped before her. She looked dainty, and Ib wondered to herself why such a happy little girl would be in a place like this.

Next to it, in a golden frame, a woman in red sat, demure and beautiful. Each paint stroke breathed life into the painting. Her mournful gaze, lips slightly parted, hands folded neatly in her lap. The little girl reached up to press her hand to the base of the image, the other still clenching tightly to the wilting rose. Still bleeding.

The little girl didn't blink. She merely stared. She stared for long, drawn out moments without breaking the contact. And as she stared, her eyes began to water, feeling dry and heavy. The image blurred in her now burning vision, yet she still did not allow her eyelids to fall, lest she miss something terribly important.

Something seemed to shift in the painting. A mere twitch of the finger? A shift in the painted gaze? The little girl's eyes burned and hurt. It was getting hard to focus.

She finally blinked.

In that empty space between one mere moment and the next, the lady in red had her hands around the little girl's throat, and the rose fell from her little, bleeding fingers.

Ib's eyes opened, fingers clutching painfully tight onto the fabric of her pillow.

Her little heart raced as she slowly sat up, eyes glancing around her room. Unconsciously, she reached up and rubbed her neck and gulped down a sob.

Her eyes still hurt, too. But she was just sleeping, right? It was only a nightmare. The same nightmare she'd been having for two months now, but a nightmare nonetheless. She drew her knees up to her chest and buried her face in them, curling up into a ball, lip quivering.

Her doors opened, and three young maids shuffled in, shattering the silence and misery of the bedroom. They drew back the curtains and opened the windows, flooding the room with early morning light. She had to rub her eyes on the sleeve of her lacy nightdress due to the sudden brightness, but she was grateful for the rush of cool, fresh air against her sweaty skin.

"G'morning, Your Highness!" said the oldest, her nanny, bustling about with the other two younger women. "It's bound to be a grand day now, isn't it? Happy birthday!"

Ah...that was today, wasn't it? Princess Ib hummed in response, blinking the sleep away from her eyes and turning her gaze to the maids. She had forgotten. With the constant nightmares night after night, it was so difficult to separate when one day ended and the other began. Sometimes, she didn't even know if she was awake or not.

Still, it was her ninth birthday, so Ib was going to force herself to like this day! She smiled a little and shifted so her legs dangled off the side of her large bed.

The opened her drawers and dressers, pulling out various fabrics. One poured warm water into a basin on top of her vanity and laid out soaps and perfumes. The oldest one, Guinevere, spread out Ib's gown across her bed and sat down beside the young princess with a happy grin. She was a stout lady, full of energy and enthusiasm. One of Ib's favorite pastimes was simply listening to her and her stories of the village outside of the castle walls. Guinevere had been her nursemaid all her life; although she doubted woman knew her at all on a deeper level beyond being the princess she had to care for, she felt more comfortable in her presence than her parents'.

Upon looking at the princess's face, Guinevere's expression fell from excited to worried in an instant. She took Ib's cheeks between her hands to inspect the little girl's state. "Tsk, tsk, Your Highness, there are bags under your eyes and you look ghostly pale...!"

Ib's guilty gaze fell even though her face was still smooshed between Guinevere's hands. "...'M sorry..." This wasn't the state to be in. She had to be pretty for her birthday party tonight. It was a big ball and many people from even different kingdoms were to be there. Mother and Father would be disappointed.

"Now, now, now, sorry won't cut it. Have you been staying up past curfew? Playing with your dolls so late...that isn't how a princess is ought to behave!" Guinevere relinquished her hold on Ib's cheeks and beckoned to one of the younger maids. "Lizzie, dear, bring the basin. Her Highness looks like a frightful mess!"

The princess remained silent. It wouldn't do to bring up a silly nightmare. Yes, they'd been getting steadily worse and she was lacking sleep, but they were just dreams. Her parents had said they weren't to be even bothered with. It was nothing to worry about and Ib was just overreacting. It was impossible for dreams to mean anything more than just the imaginings of a bored little princess.

So she allowed the maids to wipe her face clean before dipping into a full tub behind a screen in her bedroom without trying to defend herself, washing up for the rest of the day.

Her parents were probably busy with preparations for the evening's grand event. After all, they didn't have breakfast with her, and didn't greet her before her morning and afternoon lessons.

The day passed quickly, at least. It took hours to prepare herself and the grooming and dressing had intruded on her usual lesson hours. Her tutors were aggravated, to be sure. It was her birthday, though, and she was the princess.

Sometimes, she felt as if her tutors were more proud of her than her parents or Guinevere. She was not much of a princess. Yes, she was a very pretty little girl, but she was awkwardly gangly by nature, and quiet. She was not social and didn't behave with the pride of a young lady of her birthright. She looked down instead of straight ahead and liked to draw instead of gossip with the other princesses of the country.

Ib was clever, though, and excelled in her studies. She liked coloring and puzzles the most. Her tutors praised her often. More often than most, at least.

When her lessons ended, she left the large library quietly, her long dress sweeping across the marble ground. Looking down, she patted a bit of dust off of the expensive fabric, and frowned.

It was the red dress she wore in her dream as she explored that strange art gallery. A shiver rushed up and down her spine.

But she shook her head and picked up her skirt to keep from tripping as she picked up the pace back toward the east wing of the castle where the ball was to be held. It was best not to pay it any heed. She was being silly! It was just a dream, and this was a gown that she wore on more than one occasion. It was one of her most beautiful ones. Why wouldn't she dream of it, even in nightmares?

Ib told herself to stop overthinking things, and went about her business. Her lessons were over, but she couldn't paint or draw right now. She couldn't ruin her gown when her ball would be in just a few hours. She entertained the idea of herself by making her way to the tower that held her bedroom. From there, she would have been able to watch the beautiful carriages make their way through the town surrounding the palace, and see all the pretty dresses that the princesses and duchesses wore from an aerial view. Alas, she had to be there very early to greet the guests. Each and every single one.

It was...tedious.

She didn't necessarily dislike having her hand kissed by so many young boys and young men, and curtsying until her knees felt like custard. It was just so repetitive. And they kept asking her questions, prodding her for answers on how her life is and what she does in her spare time, intrusive little jabs at her quirky behavior as a princess heavily veiled by politeness.

And though her parents, beautiful and dignified as they always behaved, were right beside her the entire time, they didn't say a word directly to her. They held conversations about her to others right over her head, bragging and criticizing at the same time.

"Oh yes, she has quite the brilliant mind."

"Her Highness must! After all, she hardly says a thing; she must have nothing better to do than to simply think to herself, hm?"

"It is a good thing that she studies. Otherwise, there'd be no proof at all that anything goes on in Her Highness's cute little head!"

They all laughed, and she ducked away politely, excusing herself with the excuse that she was in need of refreshment. It wasn't a complete lie. The jeering had made her throat go dry and her eyes water. Ducking her head in a very un-princesslike manner, she made a beeline for the large buffet-style refreshment tables lining the eastern side of the ballroom. She delicately took a glass of water from it and sipped shyly. Really, it didn't...feel like her birthday. Wasn't someone supposed to be really happy on her birthday?

At least the ballroom was very nice, she thought to herself. It was decorated tastefully, yet richly (no doubt the work of her mother who had a natural talent for making things beautiful). The entire wall opposite of the food table was lined with large, grand glass windows, displaying the now-setting sun in the west with incredible vibrancy. The reddish light mixed well with the brightly lit ballroom, a large, lavish chandelier hanging above illuminating the room. In the corner, a string quartet played pleasant music that some danced to in the center.

If the company had been different, perhaps, then she would probably enjoy the overall splendor a little more.

Some princesses and duchesses, all gathered in a collective group (as expected and usual), giggled and passed by her, giving her a single, lingering look, before moving on. Their giggles were slightly louder and more pronounced.

Ib bit her lip and looked away, deciding to keep her attention on the buffet table. She didn't want to talk to them. She didn't want to be part of that group. They wouldn't let her try anyway. Ib simply wasn't like them. She didn't like to dance with the young princes (though her mother told her countless times that she should; Ib would have to marry one of them eventually). Maybe if she just kept to herself the rest of the night until the cake ceremony...

Her eyes landed on a tray of rather scrumptious-looking pastries. They were shaped almost like a small sandwiches, and they came in a variety of colors. She'd never tried those. They looked delightful.

As soon as she put her glass down and reached out to take one, she heard her mother's voice from a little distance away.

"Ib! Would you come here for a moment. We need to introduce you to someone."

For a quick second, Ib frowned. Hadn't she greeted everyone in the entire room at least once all ready? She was not comfortable with constant socializing.

She turned and headed towards her mother and father, and the queen reached out to place a hand on Ib's shoulder. The king laughed with a man who she could tell immediately was another ruler. He had yellow hair and a charming face, dressed in decorated garments just like her father. As Ib observed him, she noticed that he barely opened his jaw when he spoke and seemed to always look her father up and down closely.

"Guertena, you are always so late!" her father exclaimed jovially, clapping a hand on the other man's shoulder. Guertena? King Guertena of the neighboring country?

"Fashionably, so, dear Kouri. Always fashionably so." He turned his gaze to Ib, and she stiffened, startled by how scrutinizing his eyes were, despite the smile and the gentle expression. "This must be Her Highness, Princess Ib of the Kouri Kingdom."

She blushed in embarrassment of the full title, but curtsied nonetheless. "How do you do, Your Majesty..."

King Guertena laughed, and Ib was thankful he wasn't staring at her anymore. And at least her mother and father seemed pleased. "Come, come, Your Highness. Meet my daughters. The twins, Lib and Lir, and my youngest, Mary."

With that, he stepped aside, and Ib's heart dropped into the pits of her stomach.

The three of them were beautiful. Stunningly so. But it wasn't that fact that had Ib unable to speak or move. It wasn't jealousy that drove Ib to feel her blood run cold and her eyes narrow in panic.

Mary. She was the yellow-haired girl within the painting. And Lir...

Lib and Lir were spitting images of the woman in red, the latter much more so. While Lib was dressed in a deep blue gown of the purest silk, Lir donned an identical dress, but for the color. The same red as the woman who, in Ib's dreams, leaped from the painting and...

All three sisters stared into Ib's eyes, smiling and giggling with a curtsy. It was Mary who took a step forward, reaching out to boldly grab Ib's sweating hands with hers. "It is such a pleasure! I hope we can be friends!"

The way they looked at her...

The way they smiled...

It seemed artificial. Maddeningly so. Not in the same way as the other shallow princes and princesses. But in a dark, almost unseeable, yet unmistakable way that no one else seemed to notice aside from her. As if they were searching for something in Ib's eyes. As if they knew something.

Mary's hands tightened around her own. "We'll be friends, right?"

...Was this another dream?

Ib ran.

She ignored the scandalized exclamations from her mother and frantic apologies from her father. She ignored the harsh whispers and pointing as she ripped her hands away from Mary's. The princess almost tripped on her gown on her way out, but soon, she found the courtyard doors that led outside and out into the large garden outside the ballroom. She burst through them, not even caring how loudly they slammed shut behind her and the commotion she left behind, and went out into the night.

Ib didn't stop running until she reached the side of the small pond deep in the grounds of the garden, surrounded by trees and stone benches and a few lamps illuminating the area. By then, her slippers caught on the lace petticoat beneath her dress, and she tumbled down onto her knees with a yelp.

Finally, she let the tears fall, biting down on her lip and curling her arms around herself. She ignored the sharp pain on her knees, shaking her head in the dimness.

It was impossible. This was unthinkable. Her parents had to have been wrong. This was not some sort of sick coincidence. And she knew in her heart that something terribly bad was going to happen.

"...Are you all right?!"

Ib hiccupped in shock and covered her mouth, whipping her head up to see who had found her like this. Had her parents followed her? No, they would be too busy dealing with the drama of what Ib just caused in the ballroom. Was it one of the sisters? Or...?

She blinked the tears away and stared down at the boots that were just a foot away. The owner of the boots crouched down, and placed a warm hand to her shoulder.

The princess looked up into the stranger's face. He was...pale, and his eyes seemed sunken in, but they weren't unkind. His hair was a strange, lavender shade, with darker strands falling from the crown of his head. This man had to have been older than the children or young teenaged princes inside the ballroom, but certainly not as old as most of the adults.

His clothes were of simple fabrics, she knew, and they seemed well-worn. He wasn't decorated with any ribbons, but he did wear one of the family crests upon his breast pocket that belonged to...someone in that ballroom. Maybe a just a well-accomplished servant or knight? He couldn't have been too well-known if he wasn't inside and he wasn't introduced to her upon entering.

In his hand was a half-eaten, blue pastry - the same kind as the pastries she'd been eyeing on the food table. Upon closer inspection, he had little, flaky blue crumbles on his chin and the left side of his lip.

Ib didn't say anything and just turned to look down, clutching her fingers into the grass.

The hand on her shoulder didn't move for a moment, but soon, it began to ruffle her hair. She blinked up at him in surprise, never before experiencing such a weird gesture of kindness (for who in their right mind would try to mess up a princess's hair?). He caught her off-guard with a wide smile.

"Here."

He popped the rest of the pastry into his mouth and chewed with his mouth closed, before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small, yellow ball wrapped in a clear, plastic wrapper.

"I don't know what's got such a cute little girl so sad, but you can have this!" He reached for her hand, and she allowed him to take it in her surprise and wonder. "Eat it whenever you want, okay?" He dropped the yellow candy into her palm, and then released her.

"Ib! Where in the world are you?!"

Ib flinched at the sound of her mother's angry bellowing echoing across the garden grounds and the man next to her glanced up in surprise. "Oh...looks like they're looking for you, ma'am." He smiled again, and she guessed that he realized who she was then. "Your Highness, it isn't safe out here alone, so it's best if you return."

He stood up and dusted off his trousers, but before he walked off, he looked over his shoulder to smile at her. "Err...if you talk to my master in there, please don't tell him I snuck in? I just wanted one macaron. I'm done, I swear. Okay?"

Ib blinked in surprise, and watched him walk off and into the trees, hand still clutching the little candy.

Songs that inspired the Prologue

Promise Reprise (Silent Hill 2 Soundtrack) - Akira Yamaoka
Silent Hill Theme (Silent Hill 1 Soundtrack) - Akira Yamaoka
Edward Scissorhands Main Theme - Danny Elfman
One Last Wish (Casper Soundtrack) - James Horner
Theme of Laura Reprise (Silent Hill 2 Soundtrack) - Akira Yamaoka
Lilium (Elfen Lied)
Liz On Top of the World (Pride and Prejudice Soundtrack) - Marianelli