This is a strictly no-money-gained story taken from a dream I had a couple of months ago and added to, based on Gath Nix's winner book Sabriel. I do not claim to own any of Gath Nix's stories or characters! Enjoy!

Prologue

The group had ridden long and hard across the Old Kingdom to the seaside town of Navis, then taken the fastest fishing boat to Belisaere that they could possibly afford. It had taken the group four days to finally reach their destination, and on arrival were shown directly into the throne room, where hovering Charter marks burned brightly in the air, a pure and beautiful sight.

The three men dropped to a bow as the Queen swept into the throne room, closely followed by a swarm of bleary-eyed lady's maids, who looked peeved at being woken at such a Charter forsaken hour of the night. The Queen, contrary to her servants, greeted the three men with a warm smile and the familiar kindness in her hazel eyes which made her people love her so much.

Queen Iolanthe was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women in the Old Kingdom, with her luxurious golden locks, romantic eyes, full lips, and tall, slender figure. Many considered her a little too young to hold the most powerful position in the Kingdom, next to the Abhorsen and Clayr, of course.

"Greetings," she said to the men, her voice light and somehow musical. "Welcome to my home."

She smiled warmly at the three exhausted men. The Queen then called forwards one of her lady's maid, ordering her to go summon food and wine from the kitchens. Queen Iolanthe would hear no news until she had seen that the three men were properly fed and watered, and the riders were at least grateful for her hospitality.

"Now tell me, messengers," Iolanthe said, when the servants had cleared the last of the soup and bread away. "What news is it that you must ride to my palace and beg to speak with me?"

The three men shifted uneasily where the stood, unable to look the beautiful lady in the face. Iolanthe frowned, wondering why the men held back their news.

"Please, sirs," she called, her voice laced with a touch of sternness. "I have asked you a question, now I seek an answer. What brings you here?"

"Please, Ma'am," one of the men said hoarsely, bowing out of respect. "Our news concerns the nobleman, Urien, from the north."

The group saw the Queen stiffen slightly in her seat. One arm slipped apprehensively about her waist in an almost protective manner. Two of the men glanced at one another out of the corners of their eyes.

"Urien? What has happened to him?"

The group leader took a shudder breath. "Ma'am, our news is sorrowful. Lord Urien is dead."

"No," whispered Iolanthe, eyes grown wide with horror. "Dead? Urien…dead?"

"Not again," one of the lady's maids muttered to her friend. Thankfully, no one else heard.

"We are truly sorry, Ma'am," another of the riders said gravely.

Iolanthe was very quiet for a moment. Finally, she asked in a heavy voice: "When did Urien die?"

"Three days ago, on Long Dyrell's Road," someone answered her. "It was a hunting accident; the Dead were not involved."

The Queen let out a sigh of relief. "Well, that is something at least. I do not think the Abhorsen would thank me if I sent him on another Dead-hunt this season. Oh, by the Charter, what a terrible night this is! Please forgive me, I have still not properly digested your sorrowful news, and I would retire."

The men bowed as the Queen slowly rose to her feet, helped by two lady's maids, waiting before the Queen and lady's maids had all departed before they turned to each other. There was excitement in the other two men's eyes.

"Do you think the rumours are true?" they whispered to the leader.

"Did you see her hand go to her stomach? Maybe she really is pregnant with Urien's child!"

"Hold your tongues before I cut them from your mouths!" the leader hissed angrily, cuffing the nearest man about the head. "This is the Queen you are slandering; have you both forgotten your places?"

"Urien obviously forgot his," muttered the second rider tetchily, only to receive another vicious cuff about the head. So passed Lord Urien, Queen Iolanthe's last love.

KK, so that's the prologue. Please comment but try to refrain from sending any falmes!