The kingdom was in a vivid state of rebirth.

The date was March 28. It was the corner of the season, winter had just ended its unruly rein over the realm, and everything was beginning to come out of their states of hibernation and prowl around, searching for berries to eat, squirrels to hunt, and crops to consume. Small fawns would innocently graze the wood on the right side of the castles, were the hunting ground granted to the Vargas family was forbidden to any villagers.

Lovino R. Vargas, a prince-in-waiting at the young, thriving age of twenty, was champion of these grounds, his prime weapon either a musket or a bow and arrow. His fingers itched and ached to hunt the game again, for in the winter the rabbits teased him so. It was too cold for him and his delicate state of body to set a toe out the door, as it was throughout the eight months of everlasting snow. Now, the shimmering white blankets were melting at a rapid pace. Lovino's mood that was so dead and depressed through the winter was returning to its lively status. He would be in the woods nearly every day, hunting pheasants, birds, deer, and the occasional lucky fox.

However, his years of youth were ending, for Lovino's father announced he would marry a rich young woman from another kingdom. He was delighted, but thwarted. It wasn't going to be easy sneaking out from the arranged marriage to hunt in the wood. Her name was Tameryn Ainsely, from the Kingdom Of Larebeth, further west from his realm, the Kingdom of Caeria in the northeast.

The prince was in his wood, bow clutched tightly in his hands like an infant and their blanket. Rustling winds sighed among the trees, caressing his face and waving his short, auburn brown hair. His worn, black fur boots tiptoed through the remaining snow, wary of snapping small twigs left from the fierce winter storms. He had small, white furs dangling beside his thigh. He had caught game that morning. Their meats were resting in the bag beside his right leg.

A rustle caught his attention. By the sound of it, a fox of some sort. He picked up his bow, loaded it and pointed it in the direction of his prey. Easy kills were his favorite. Being cautious of the booby traps of noise laying the forest floor, he followed the fresh tracks of the fox.

Now, the fact that today was the day he would finally meet his new fiancée was the farthest thing from his mind. Standing before him was a beautiful, gorgeous male, adult fox with the shiniest coat he had ever seen. Pulling back the arrow as he ducked down, his hands shaking in anticipation, the moment he'd been waiting for since the first day of winter—

The arrow shot cleanly through the fox's eye with no damage to the pelt. He almost screamed with delight. His God-given gift was the only thing that could make his legs shake and his heart pound against his heavily coated chest. He ran over, his eyes filling with tears from the bitter cold and the sheer pride swelling in his chest, and removed his arrow. His father would be proud of this one.

. O .

He would admit, life as a pauper was harder than most. The Carriedo's were poor folk, doing whatever they could to make it to the next month. Baking bread, hunting in the sparse woods to the east, sewing dresses, selling traps, and picking weeds— anything to bring in some money, they'd happily do it. Antonio, only child of the Carriedo family at the age of twenty-two, was the prime source of income. His mother, weak and frail, was unable to do much but sew for the needy and cook soups and stews for those who could not afford the price of meat slain by the prince himself, or the meager little game people would sell in the plaza at high prices.

His traps were his prized skill. He could catch nearly anything, for instance, once; he caught an adult black bear. The fur was used on his coats in the winter. People begged him to share his secrets, but he preferred to keep them to himself, for his father would have wanted him to. His mother even teased that the prince would even beg to be taught in the arts of traps, since he relied heavily on his bow and arrow. He denied such things, for the prince would never even lock eyes with such a poor man.

Antonio was a jovial man, happy for everything he had, but a deep sort of loathing for the King after his men had came in, taken his father away for a false accusation that he himself stole from the palace. Well, it was absurd. His father would never do such a thing. He was an honest man, who would have wanted Antonio to do the best he could to help his family.

Therefore, when the opportunity came that a woman's father from the far west side of the village wanted a husband for his daughter, Antonio's mother sprung at the chance. They were poor, but the man didn't mind in the slightest once he saw how hard Antonio worked. He gave permission to wed the daughter he had not even met yet.

The chair of the home was warm and padded, as such a nice chair from a wealthy family would have. He was dressed to the nines, his hair curly and astray from his last job in the mines. However, he had freshened up for the new woman, eager and anticipating her personality and appearance from the pictures his father had given him.

Looks were not important to Antonio. He believed in inner beauty. Nevertheless, as the charming, tender woman entered the sitting room with her very precious looking gown, a sweet honey color that accented her hazel eyes very well, Antonio felt the need that he didn't have to worry about such things. He smiled at her, standing up as he did with every woman and man that was a higher status then him (which, unfortunately, was everyone), and kissed her hand. Her timid smile appeared, she looked to her very happy, very proud father for help, but he urged her on to be polite as she could.

"How do you do, madam?" Antonio asked, bowing before her and helping her down to the seat beside him. The father seemed quite pleased with this, and shut the double doors, returning to his work. The woman, whose name was still unknown, sat upright and seemed to be worrying about the pin falling loose in her light, almost dark-blonde hair.

"Please, sir," She began, a small shade of pink dancing over her fair cheeks. "Address me as my name, we are engaged now."

Antonio was delighted with the sweet, tinkling sound of her voice. She sounded like little bells. "I'm afraid, madam, I am lacking your name," He explained, rubbing his well-worked, calloused hands.

She blinked, now anxious to fix a diminutive ringlet of light brown that fell to her forehead, curling inwards. Antonio had hardly noticed. "My name is Josephine Sloane." She raised a small hand to place her hair and pin back into position. "And yours is Antonio, correct?" Josephine seemed so much nicer than her mother did, at least.

Antonio nodded. She was such a beauty, too, with a face that was comparable to blue bells on a sweet, chilly spring day. She smelled light with the scent of apples and bread fresh from the oven. "I look forward to being your husband, Josephine."

Her smile lit her face and she giggled, meeting his eyes. "Me as well, Antonio, its exciting isn't it? I'm lucky."

. O .

Lovino straightened his collar as the woman to be his wife walked in, occupied by a guard or two until she saw the prince sitting at a chair, drinking a class of warm coffee, uninterested by her flamboyant waltz of her feet. She walked as if she was drunk, but by her face, she was far from it. She was stone cold sober, just high as a kite on the thought of marriage.

"Lovino," His father, whose hair coiled off in different directions nearly snapped. He turned his head to lock eyes with the blond beauty. Fine picked from the princesses around the land. Her smile was energetic, somewhat annoying but charming, nonetheless. Her pale blond hair fell around her shoulders in ringlets, unusual for a woman around here. Ladies in his kingdom were expected to have their hair pulled into braids or up in buns, away from the eyes. She had her fringe braided back, at least. "Greet her."

He stood up, drained from the morning's hunting, but gregarious nonetheless. He held out his hand, hidden by black leather gloves. He had forgotten to take them off.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you… Miss—"

"Tameryn," She nearly interjected, obviously very excited about her new fiancé. Lovino stepped back once she took his hand and sat down before him. "I am Tameryn Ainsely. Please address me as such." Lovino was about to make a comment on how assertive she was, but his father appeared to have seen that coming, for he gave him a good look explaining silently all the good reasons about this girl.

Her eyes were the strange color of a green, contrasting vibrantly against her fair skin and pale hair. They were almost cat-like, or snake-like. He half-expected her to start hissing at him and eat him whole. That would be an interesting wedding, he snickered to himself, timing perfectly to Tameryn's description of her castle.

"… The halls are so wide and full of paintings of our ancestors, they're so eerie in the night." She laughed, filling the room with her loud voice. Lovino snapped back once he heard her laugh, his hazel eyes widening. "Your halls seem the same way too, Lovino. I've heard a lot about you. You hunt, don't you?"

He nodded. Of course, he hunted. Was this girl dense or just trying to get on his nerves? "Yes, I hunt in the woods outside and to the east. They're very dense, full of all kinds of game. It's quite the experience." Lovino smirked, crossing his legs and folding his hands. Perhaps this girl would enjoy sharing her skills if she did the same—

She scoffed, rolling her ivy green eyes. "Hunting's just so ridiculous, Lovino. I don't see why you like it so much. It's a waste of time, if you ask me." Tameryn was obviously not one to filter out her words. She was as blunt as his father's old weapons. "But! You seem to enjoy it, so it's good that you get as much shooting or whatever it is hunters do before the wedding." She smiled to him.

Lovino blinked. His father nodded and looked to his son. "She's right, Lovino. It is a waste of time," He mumbled, itching at his stubbly old beard. "You're good with a bow, try archery as a sport instead of hunting."

"You haven't been hunting like I have, father." Lovino grumbled.

"Well, Rubellius, he's right, too. I've gone hunting before, too. I'm not very good at it, either, though!" She laughed again, and Lovino leaned forward with interest.

"What are you good at then, Miss Tameryn?" He asked smugly. Women's work, probably. That's all she would be good for, anyway.

"Knitting, knot making… and I'm very good at baking, too." Lovino expected as much. He yawned, getting an expected glare from his father and a slightly irritated look from his fiancée.

"What's so good about knitting and baking, huh? Seems like a waste of time to me." He smirked again, expecting a bunch of laughs from his father. Instead, he got a stronger glare.

"Lovino, you wouldn't be wearing the clothes on your back if the tailors down in the villages didn't know how to knit. You wouldn't eat anything with grain in it if the servants didn't know how to cook. It is not a waste of time." He hissed at him.

The prince tutted. "And where would the meat come from if I had not slain it?"

"You catch hawks, pheasants and doe. That is not meal for a person of your status." Tameryn nodded silently, looking down to her rich, royal red gown that tightened her waist and displayed her breasts to him in the most distracting manner he had ever seen. He could hardly concentrate on one of his father's many lectures. "Besides, the villagers catch all of our meat, anyway. They have traps."

"I'd learn how to make traps if they weren't so dense about teaching me, father."

The princess cleared her throat, as if to attract attention back to herself. He almost gasped. Women in Caeria, let alone Larebeth, hardly ever cleared their throat for attention. She was his new fiancée, and Lovino understood that, but how could she ever interrupt men discussing important topics? Either way, Lovino decided he'd lighten her load, she probably wasn't used to being ignored in this very gender-strict kingdom.

"I'm sorry, my dear," He charmed, offering his hand. "My father and I get in heated debates fairly often, it's horrible, to be honest." The princess almost looked offended by the hand, yet somehow she smiled on, taking the warm hand into hers. Her hands were like ice, her nails painted red (something he had never seen and was on edge about asking if her hands were bleeding from the cold or if she had a high position in her kingdom), and her fingers bone-like, so fragile looking.

"No matter to me," Tameryn smiled with the grace of a swan. "Be sure to catch me something once you go out hunting again," She looked over to the corridor where Lovino's game was kept and professionally cleaned and hung about rooms and placed in cupboards.

"Will do, milady— I spotted a bear right outside the gates to the village grounds, I have to get it!" He laughed, shaking his fiancée's hand and rushing out the door. Today was a great day. A beautiful woman would rule by his side, since really, only looks mattered to him, and, he'd have a bear pelt slung over his shoulders in the next few moments.

Life… life was good.

. O .

Antonio was dressed in his best hunting gear. Everything would go according to plan. He'd catch the black bear living near the edge of the prince's hunting grounds, carry it home with the help of his friends, and live his life in luxury. The bear that made the huntsman famous throughout the kingdom, he would call it.

The soft, crunching sound of snow beneath his feet calmed his nerves as he placed a large trap and hid it with the stray flakes drifting about. It was his favorite one to make— the finest bear foot traps known scarcely in the kingdom. Not only was it a play on words that made his mother chuckle, it was the best trap for catching anything bigger than a bear cub and easily dominating things smaller. He heard the grunt of a creature in the horizon. Laughing under his visible, foggy breath, he fell back behind the nearest tree, waiting, enjoying every second of the hunt.

Yet, as the creature would have made it through the trap with ease, somehow it hesitated. Bears didn't hesitate. Why was it waiting?

Antonio spun around the thick length of the tree trunk just as the vicious trap hidden by the snowy floor enclosed around a higher-class man's foot, knocking him to the floor with a loud wail of terror and the heavy padding of the beast who hesitated running away.

"Help!" The man cried with his voice crackling with hurt and dismay. "Someone help me, please!" The pauper inched forward, unsure of what to do with the man at his feet, crying and clutching at his fabric. "You! You imbecile, I should have you— I should have you hanged! Personally! Fuck, I swear once I'm out of this trap I'll skin you with your own weapon!"

I may as well introduce myself, I suppose. I'm purpleposiepops, but you save yourself some trouble and call me PosiePop or Posie. I run a blog, I have a lovely writing assistant pen-named here as Teak. She's been a wonderful help over the past few weeks. Love her to pieces. Such a good friend.

I hope you're enjoying reading this just as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

See you next week on Sunday.