Author's Note

Just a few things before we get started. As usual, these characters don't belong to me, nor do their back stories or really anything vaguely related to them. But this story is an original, though it's based on one or two "MOTU" flashbacks and hints given along the way.

I need to note this or everyone will either kill me or get confused - or both, which is far worse. Continuity and canon is something I'll be taking somewhat lightly while writing this. Not lightly enough to destroy everything we know and love about "MOTU" and to alter it completely, but just a few adjustments for the sake of the story. This story takes in the same continuity as "The Crossroads of Destiny," "Prophecy & Change," "Roots," and "The Final Adventure." So . . . without further ado . . . "Preludes and Beginnings"

Prologue

He sat alone on the bench next a large bay window, the moonlight flowing through and running across his weary face. His crown hung limp in his fingers, a piece of worthless gold that did he no good this terrible eve. He closed his eyes and tried to wish these tragic things away, but it was impossible to move his mind from the events of the now.

Lara, pregnant and full of life, fell from the stairs at the top of garden. She fell and Miro watched as time itself slowed down. She fell and he could hear her bones breaking. She fell and he ran to her, blood gushing from . . .

The memory was drowned out by the noise of footsteps against the floor. He looked up and saw the doctor walk towards him. The king made no movement except to look up with pathetic eyes.

"Sire," the doctor addressed.

"Yes? What is it? My son?"

The doctor took deep breath. "Stable."

"Thank the Ancients . . ."

"But . . ." the doctor began, "I'm afraid there is a complication."

Miro straightened at the words. "What? What's the matter?"

"Your son . . . he is four months premature. Now, we have hope that he will survive and live on to experience a good, rich life. Except . . . your king . . . the boy, Keldor, it's his heart."

"What's wrong with his heart?"

"It's very weak. It'll be weak for the rest of his life. He'll never have a completely full life because of it."

Miro's eyes trembled. "But . . . he'll live. He'll be okay."

"Yes. Yes, we have every reason to believe that Keldor will be okay."

Miro nodded in understanding. "And Lara? What is her condition?"

At this, the doctor looked towards the window. Miro knew it, in that moment, he knew it. "She's not going to make it."

Everything around Miro came crashing down. Pain entered his entire body at those words. His eyes shut, his face clenched, his fists came unballed, and the crown clattered to the ground. Everything changed, and suddenly - Miro stood next to a bed, his beautiful wife laying on it.

"I'll give you some time," the doctor said.

Miro nodded slowly and reached up and ran his fingers across Lara's forehead. "Lara . . ."

Lara looked up, her blond locks brushed away from her bloodshot green eyes. "Miro," she gasped, "I'm . . . I'm not afraid . . ."

Miro lost it. Tears flowed down and he weeped openly. "I am," he sobbed, pressing his face against her chest. "I can't do this, Lara, I can't. Not without you . . ."

Lara weakly lifted her hand brought it to his head. She pulled him close to her face and whispered into his ear. "You must. You must, Miro. For the children. For Randor, and Stephan . . . Johanna . . . and . . . and Keldor . . ."

Miro nodded, his tears touching upon her lips, running across them down her cheeks. "I will, Lara. I promise you, I will."

Lara shuddered, and she gasped. Miro pulled her into his arms and cradled her. "I feel warm," she wheezed.

"Don't leave me . . ." he muttered.

She kissed him deeply, touching into his soul. "I'll never leave you," she whispered softly. "I'll always be with you . . . my love . . ."

And in his arms, Queen Lara died against King Miro.

Shock filled his body, and his tongue locked in place, unable to speak or to utter anything. And then, as he let the lifeless body drop upon the bed, he shook and shivered into reality. His wife laid dead before him . . .

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" he screamed, and soon turned into a roar that all of Eternos could hear. "NOOOOO!!! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

Outside the room, the Man-At-Arms soon joined the doctor, who heard the cry. "What is it? What happened?" questioned the young Man-At-Arms.

"The Queen," the doctor said solemnly.

At that moment, the doors threw open and Miro stormed out. "Summon my steed," he rumbled.

"Sire?"

"I SAID SUMMON MY STEED!"

***

Within moments, Miro charged north across the plains of the Fertile Continent. His mind remained locked on the visage of his wife laying dead before him and it drove him further onward in his journey. The moons hung high in the star-filled sky and when he reached the Hall of Wisdom a few hours later, everything seemed brighter.

He threw open the unguarded doors and stormed into the main chamber of the Hall of Wisdom. The Council of Elders, led by Eldor himself, sat and watched him walk towards them; their twenty-five forms illuminated by their power.

"The hour is late," Eldor addressed.

"SILENCE!" shouted Miro. "You took her! You took my wife, you son of a jackal!"

Eldor lowered his head and looked to his fellow council members. "We are not the masters of fate and life, King Miro."

"YOU COULD HAVE HELPED HER!" he shrieked. "WE HAVE SERVED YOU FAITHFULLY FOR YEARS AND WHEN WE NEED YOU, YOU TURN YOUR BACKS ON US!"

Eldor raised his hand. "King Miro, we did not kill your wife. Fate and destiny does these things. We did not foresee this and we could not have stopped it."

Miro listened to his words, the anger washing away from him, and sadness filled his heart - his entire soul. Tears fell from his eyes, racing down his cheeks.

Ali, one of the female members of the council, spoke. "King Miro, we grieve with you. Your wife was a great woman and one that will be missed for years to come. Eternos has always been an ally of the Elders."

"Indeed," said Kor, a male across from Eldor. "The strength of your bloodline has been great and will continue to be so. Great things will happen, Miro."

Eldor stood and walked to Miro and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Go home, King Miro, and grieve. This is a night of mourning."

Miro nodded and stood up. He turned away from the Council of Elders and made for the door. He had much to tell his children . . .