The Day We First Met

"Matthew, grab a canvas my love." Queen Belle gently beckoned to the little boy who had been playing with his wooden figures in rhe hallway. His father was away on buisness and had left him in the care if his grandmother who was as beautiful as she was kind. She loved art and anything with a deeper meaning. She adored strumming the old Heart strings of her life and she hoped maybe one day, she could influence others to adopt a more compassionate way of thinking. She did this through her words and her actions. And sometimes it included hobbies as well.

The little boy eagerly ran towards thw older women unto the open sunroom where two art easels sat next ti each other in perfect symattry. Belle sat on a wooden stool behind one of the the easels while the second stool was left open for the boy, Matthew. Hw obediently grabbed one of the large poster sized canvases stacked near the entrance to the sunroom turned studio.

He handed the canvas to his grandmother who smiled down at him lovingly. Belle placed it onto the boys easel and lifted him up into her arms. Her was so little, so light, she enjoyed the days like this when ahe could just hold him in her arms. such a sweetheart. She could hardly believe it had been six years since thw day her son had brought him home from the side of the rode. Alone and abondoned. Just a infant against the cruel world.

She placed him down on the wooden stool and picked up a thin brush. She pressed her lips together and inclined her head to convey that she wanted him to do the same. He obeyed.

"What are painting today, Nana?"

She tapped the point of the paint brush against her chin a few times as if she were thinking. But truth be told ahe had already know what to say before she had even requested him to grab thw canvas. But she wanted to amuse him. Make his life an adventure.

"Do you like the garde" she asked, refereing to the rose garden she had eight outside th castle, in the courtyard. She would often take the young child out there to wnjoy a light picknick with her. To her delight Matthew nodded his head eagerly. "Then how about we pain the garden, but with whatever colored flowers you want." The idea of painting in whatever color he wanted seemed to make the boy happy and he quickly dipped his beush into the green paint and slathered it over the convas.

Belle smiled and dipped her own brush in the green paint, so that she could paint on her bushes. She didn't need to close her eye to imagine how she wanted the scenery to look. It was beautiful. And she wanted to potry that in her art. She wnated tonpotray it with one of her beloved family members by her side.

She was just about to lose herself completely in her art until a servant burst through the sunroom door, a look of urgency in evident in his features.

"Clogsworth!" Matthew cried out in glee at seeing the old servant who had taught him how to tie his shoes a year ago.

He managed a brief smile in the childs direction before he faltered and his attention turned towards Belle who was now startled as well as a bit scared. She hardly ever saw her servants retrieve her in such a manner especially since she had handed the throne over to her son, Benjamin.

"The king request your presence eight away ma'am." Clogsworth fingers trembled. "They've struck again."

Belle sighed in frustration, leaning her head onto the easel. "Who was the victim this time?"

"It was Mrs.Ella this time ma'am," he replied, sadness watched into thw grooves of his gentle face. "She was immediately rushed to the infirmary where she is in critical condition. Her husband by her bedside. The king had called an emergency meeting ri discuss rhe matter."

Matthew furrowed his brow as he struggled to follow the grown up conversation. He could never understand what was happening. He was far too young to understand the concept of death and what humans and their minds could do to people like them. To anybody really. Belle placed her paintbrush down. She wouldn't return to the piece today, that ahe knew foe certain.

"Come my love." Belle reached her hand out for the child to rake. He gripped it tightly in his little hands and hopped down from rhe stool. "Play with tou little horses and men until I return. Your papa needs to speak with me as if right now."

"Yes Nana," the child agreed. The walked to the hallway where his discarded figurines laid and plopped down onto the velvet carpet to play war with his little wooden men.

"Take me to my son," Belle demanded.

Three Hours Prior

She pulled her hood up so that the shadow concealed the features of her face. She gripped her elegantly etched bow that was slung around her shoulders, designed specially by her own hand. Two pistols hung by her belt, each woth about five woz bullets loaded in wach of the chambers. She also had about seven arrow in her carry on ouch by her side. Her trusty sword, Legacy, was strapped behind in her scabbard.

This was Mal' standard equipment. Everything she would ever need to preform the task at hand. She had been doing this for five years in total. Planning, conspiring, running, and hiding. It was all she had left to do. Alk she had left to live for.

"Soon," Jay, the hooded figure beside her whispered into her ear. She grinned. Soon. Soon Queen Ella and her prince Charming as Mal often referred to him in a mocking way, would emerge from their front palace gates on their annual visit ro the Camelot kingdom on diplomatic business. Ella, the real brains Mal was looking for, was their main target. The moment they come out she knew their guards would flank them by each side.

That's why she and Jay sat on thw rooftops out of view. They would have an easy shot. A way to easy shot from up here. Mal would assassinate her like she had assasinated kings and queens before her. And then she would run off into the night. Her message would have been received.

The royal fanfare started playing, and Mal quickly tapped Jay on the arm to let him know that their time has come. Jay nodded. He had obtained quite the understanding of his mysterious partner throughout the years. He felt like it was just yesterday since he fished her lifeless body out of Auradon Harbor and revived her with what little medical knowledge he had aquired. He had to admit, she kept him on his toes. And he had absolutely no problem with her motives and the risks she was willing to take to go about them.

"I can see her," Mal pointed her finger, rimrod straight down at the pavement below were Queen Ella walked out of the entrance to her palace with he beloved king beside her. Mal resisted the urge to laugh. The shot would be so easy.

As predicted her guards flanked her from all sides. But from up here that wasn't a problem. It was so trivial that Mal took out her pistol, a weapon she only used for close range combat. She took aim, trusting the shadows to hide her.

"This is for my son," she whispered. And then she pulled the trigger watching the queen drop down and the blood pool beneath her from above. Panic ensued as people began looking about frantically for the criminal behind it.

Jay grabbed her arm. "Let's go," he urged.

But Mal stayed for just a moment longer. To, ironically, apologize. She was a women of honor. She didn't do anything just for the heck of it. In a way yes, this was some sort of sick, twisted revenge, but it was more than that. It was what she had to do.

She allowed Jay to pull her away as they ran off, using the shadows as their friend.

"It was him wasn't it," Belle asked as she walked down the hallway with her son, Benjamin. He gritted his teeth and she watched the fire burn behind his eyes. Ella's condition wasn't looking good and he was beyond angry that someone would do such a thing, in his kingdom. Worst of all they couldn't catch him.

Death's Shadow is what they called him, the person who assassinated all the royals. It all occured about five to six years ago, when a King dropped dead after a bullet got him right through the heart. It was a clean shot of someone who knew what they were doing. Ever since then more royals have been assassinated, the only reason why they knew it was the same person was because of the description the very few witnesses of every case said.

"I couldn't see its face," the would blubber. "They were just...so dark...just a shadowy figure."

So thw kingdom called him Death's Shadow, and royals lived in fear at the assassins skill and wits. The feared they could be next.

"We have to catch him." Ben crossed his arms suddenly and leaned against the wall thoughtfully. "We could try camera's?"

Belle laughed. A humorless laugh. "You don't think somebody hasn't tried that already?" She asked. "It won't qork. The assassin far to fast, smart, cunning, and skilled for this to work. All their assassination looked well planned out and thought through."

"Then what should I do?" Ben suggested throwing his hands up in frustration.

Belle ran a shaky hand through her hair, streaks of grey littered it. "You think if i knew," she spoke quietly "I would tell you? U mean you're father might still be here today."

The dull ache in Ben's chest increased into a throb. His father had died three years ago due to an assassination. His mother and him had come home from the market ro find their father slumped over his desk inside of his office with an arrow sticking out of it. Their was a note attached to that arrow. It didn't reveal enough to catch the culprit but it scared Ben.

You've taken my everything

Signed... Death's Shadow