Hello, my very patient readers! I know I've been away for quite some time. I've been busy with nursing school, graduating with a Bachelor's, studying to get my license in my home state so that I can be hired as a nurse, and other stuff that's been going on in my life. I also lost my 20 year old cat last June. Dealing with her loss took me away from this story for sometime. But I got back to it with new ideas. As a result, this story has undergone major editing, rewriting and fine-tuning.

As you can see, this story is structured very differently with the headings, such as:

Part 1 TITLE OF THE PART

~ Chapter 1 Title of the chapter ~

You will see this format throughout the entire story, and there are many parts planned. The chapters are also broken up into smaller chapters within each part, kind of like how episodes to a TV series are. When I originally started this story, I realized I was starting to write it like a TV series, and that is what it has grown into (not a TV series, but a story series of sorts). Also, I want the story to be good for both you, my very patient readers, and me, so this story has gone through edit after edit after edit. It's a long process and it's still a work in progress, but I've got a narrative of where this is all going. I just need to keep working on it.

Here is Part 1. Part 2 is in the works. The other Parts that will be new additions will be Parts 2-8, then starting at Part 9 is where some of my old time readers will be more familiar with.

Anyways, I apologize for this long, long wait, but I still have my heart set on finishing this story. It's got some work to go, but I hope you enjoy it. Thanks.

Part 1 MOST BEAUTIFUL HEART

~ Chapter 1 Most Beautiful Heart ~

A big, long yawn comes out of my mouth. This is all so very boring; petitions in the morning. I'm not sure why mother made me come down here so early this morning to watch her talk to some of father's people. She doesn't even talk to all of father's people at once! There's a whole line of father's people standing outside the throne room waiting for their chance to get an audience with the Queen. I groan under my breath and look at the lofty, iron-casted doors cracked open enough to allow one man to squeeze through at a time. Two guards dressed in their silvery armor stand posted on either side of the doors, only letting one of father's people in at a time once mother finishes her petition with the last of father's people.

"Thank you, my Queen," a man says, drawing my eyes to the other end of the throne room. The man, an old bean if I ever saw one, manages to bow with his hunched back, though he shakes terribly as he does so.

"Please do not bow if it causes you pain, Sir!" Mother jumps up from her throne and rushes down the red carpeted steps to the man. She grabs his arms and helps him straighten his back with gentleness and care.

The old man barely makes a sound of pain and nods gratefully. "Thank you, my Queen."

"I pray you have a safe journey home," mother says as she helps him turn about and gestures for one of her guards beside her throne to come and help the old man out of here. One of the guards leaves his post next to her throne and helps the man out of the throne room. Mother watches them leave with the most loving smile in the world on her blood red lips. The morning sun streams down through the windows onto her. The royal purple silk of her dress has a slight shine to it in the sunlight, but the silver threading of her dress' embroidered flowers and vines pattern sparkles like someone sprinkled diamond dust into the stitching. The silver of her crown, the rubies in her crown, and her long, silky black hair all reflect the sun's morning light, making her glow with a golden aura like an angel. She looks so beautiful standing there.

Mother looks my way and her smile grows, showing off her pearly white teeth. "These are what petitions look like, daughter," she says.

I frown and let my shoulders slump into an unladylike posture. "You do this all morning?"

Mother smirks at me. "All morning, every morning."

My eyes widen. "Don't you get a day off!?"

Mother laughs and turns around, climbing the steps back up to her elaborate throne, the train of her dress dragging up the steps behind her. "There is no such thing as a day off for the Queen of Tabor," she says. She sits down on her throne and assumes the position of Queen, holding her chin up just high enough, her back straight against the throne, and her arms resting on the armrests.

"Let the next one in!" mother announces. I look to the entrance of the throne room. The guards look back at the crowd of father's people standing outside in the grand corridor and gesture for another one to go in. An old woman slips between the doors and passes the guards. I watch her as she starts hobbling her way towards mother with a crooked, black wood cane in her hand to help her walk. Her cane clicks on the ground, each click echoing against the high walls and the flying buttresses leading out to a grand porch that surrounds the back and sides of the throne room. The long, tattered brown robes the woman wears flutter with her steps. Her white hair is long, perhaps as long as mother's, and as dry as bones, frizzy and hardly contained in her braids. The old woman turns her trembling head and locks eyes with me––those eyes––so tired and red, yet they are pale green! Most everyone here has dark eyes. It's so rare if I see anyone with eyes any other color than brown, like William with his silver eyes. There's something else with those eyes, though…I'm not sure what it is. Whatever it is, it's…a little scary.

"Fair day, woman," mother greets as the old woman nears the steps leading up to the throne. The old woman looks up at mother and stops at the first step.

The old woman bows her head deeply. "My Queen," the old woman greets. She lifts her feeble head and looks up at mother. "I have heard you are quite beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful in this land."

Mother laughs a little, drawing my eyes to her. She shifts in her seat and straightens out the folds in the skirt of her dress. There's a strange tone in her soft laughter. She seems…uncomfortable.

"You flatter me, woman, but there are many others who are beautiful. Beauty is a…," mother trails off, biting the inside of her lip, "it's a very subjective term. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder."

The old woman laughs, pulling my gaze to her. "My Queen, you misunderstand me. What you speak of is mere beauty of the flesh, beauty that only men see. I speak of the beauty of the heart, beauty which only…a higher power sees."

My brows furrow. What is going on? This is a strange petition. All the petitions I sat through today were just a 'hello Queen, can I have this?' and a 'Thank you, my Queen'. This is different.

"I see," mother says slowly. She forces a smile and nods. "Please, tell me your name."

"Rachel, my Queen." The old woman bows her head to mother again.

"Rachel." Mother bows her head in return. "What a fair name. I briefly considered naming my only child Rachel when she was born."

"Really?" the old woman asks with surprise. She turns her shaking, feeble head to look at me with her pale green eyes. Her eyes are so pale that they look like a ghost. They carry in them the death of a ghost.

"What have you come to petition for today, Rachel?" mother asks, drawing Rachel's ghostly eyes back to her.

"I come with a very humble petition, my Queen. My whole life I have only known sadness, anger, pain…evil," Rachel says. A chill goes down my spine. The way she said 'evil'…I can almost feel the evil in that word. Rachel continues, "All things I have known throughout my long life have been…hideous. I only wish to catch a glimpse of the most beautiful heart in this land, to see goodness as defined by God. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder indeed. Please come down from your throne to me for my eyes are failing me. Let me see into your eyes so that I may see the most beautiful heart in this land. Please, let me see so that I may know some goodness before I die."

My gut feels funny and a little…scared. I look at mother waiting to see what she'll do. Mother shifts in her throne uncomfortably and smoothes out the wrinkles in her dress again. She does not want to get down from her throne, that much I can see. I feel uncomfortable about all this too. Perhaps she shouldn't get down from her––

"Of course, Rachel," mother says. She grabs the armrests of her throne and pushes herself to her feet. She gathers up the skirt of her dress like a proper lady and slowly descends the steps to reach the old woman. Down each step she goes, barely showing the tip of her fine leather shoes beneath the rich purple silk with each step she takes.

"Mother!" I call out to her, starting to get up from my seat at the side of the throne room. "Mother, maybe you shouldn't––"

"Not now, daughter!" Mother stops on the first step before the old woman and holds her hand up to me, silencing me. I pipe down and sit back down amongst all the other seats where the nobles of the court sit when gathered in here. Mother lowers her hand and turns her gaze to Rachel.

"Here I am, Rachel, do you see me?" mother asks, holding her arms out to Rachel as if to hug her.

Rachel looks up at mother and squints her eyes. She looks harder at mother, but she shakes her head. "Forgive me, my Queen, but I still cannot see you clearly. Please come closer."

Mother takes a deep breath and looks about the throne room, searching for someone. Is she looking for me? Surely she knows where––her eyes pass over me, staying on me very briefly before looking everywhere else about the throne room and outside on the great porch. No, she's not looking for me. She knows where I am. So, then who is she looking for?

"Of course, Rachel," mother says. She looks down at Rachel and steps down off the last step, placing her feet on the same ground as Rachel's. Oh, that's it! Mother was looking about to see if there were any nobles of court somewhere in the throne room or out on the great porch. She didn't want any of the nobles to see her place her feet on the same ground as father's people. Otherwise, mother would be in trouble. William told me that nobles never share the same ground with any of father's people.

"Oh!" Rachel gasps in awe. "Thank you, my Queen! Now I see true beauty! Truly you are the most beautiful in this land!—" a cough wracks through Rachel's body, cutting her words short.

Worry fills mother's eyes and she reaches out to Rachel. "Rachel, are you alright?" mother asks. Rachel tries to nod, but her coughing grows worse. She tries to cover her mouth with her free hand, but each cough pushes her hand away. A loud, violent cough makes her pitch forward into mother. Something flies out of the woman's mouth and hits mother's cheek––something red.

"Rachel!?" mother asks with alarm. She hugs Rachel's violently coughing body to her and looks back at the guards by the her throne. "Guards, please take her to the healers! Hurry!"

The guards rush down their steps and take Rachel out of mother's arms. Two of the guards pick up Rachel in their arms and carry her out of the throne room quickly with her coughing terribly the whole way out.

"My Queen, your face!" a man says, drawing my eyes back to mother and a guard standing beside her. The guard pulls a white square cloth out of his satchel and hands it to mother.

"Thank you, Sir," mother says graciously while she takes the cloth and wipes the red drops off her cheek. Mother did not have those red spots on her cheek before Rachel coughed her way into mother's arms. Rachel must have coughed that up on her, whatever that red stuff is.

Mother lowers the white cloth from her face and looks down at it, her eyes widening. "Blood!" mother says aloud with surprise.

My eyes widen, too. "Blood?" I mutter to myself. Worry comes over me instantly. "Mother, are you alright!?" I call out to her.

Mother manages to take her eyes off the blood stained cloth and look up at me. "Yes, my rose, I'm quite alright."

I hum to myself with worry. "Alright," I say. I hope she's alright.