A Princess's Tale
Chapter One
I was born, if you can call it that, a very long time ago. I would tell you the number, except it's so big, I can't count that high. I am so old, I make the Ancient Ones, the Ones who came before even the Shadows, look young. Yet I retain the appearance of a girl around nineteen, my golden hair falling down my back, past my waist, and skin so white it makes snow look dark, paler than even Marius, Lestat, or Mekare and Maharet. A mouth called lush by some, colored dark red, is the only feature that disrupts my snowy skin, and the only thing that reveals my age is my eyes, dark, dark chips of iridescent blue ice. Many a man has tried to melt the coldness, but all have failed. They don't understand . . .they don't understand the things I've seen . . .the things I've done . . .
I'm digressing again. We'll get to those things, all in good time. Back to the beginning.
As I said, I was born a very long time ago, and raised by two wonderful people for five years. My mother, Mirini, was a beautiful woman, with dark chocolate hair almost as long as mine is now. She usually wore it up in an elegant knot, but when she let it down, the curls would spill over her shoulders, and she would let me play with them. My father, Jado, had blonde hair like mine, and I remember he had a strong, kind face, lined and wise. It's a pity they weren't really my parents. Uncle, the being who's been guiding me my entire life, created my parents, then my brother and me.
Let me tell you about my brother. Jonathan had dark hair like my mother's, though it curled just under his ears. He was four years older than I was, and I loved him so much. He was my darling older brother, the one who looked out for me, always had time for me, no matter what.
But all that changed on the night after my fifth birthday. Actually, to satisfy prophecy, it was the day after my birthday, but still the same night. Something woke me, I don't know what, so I naturally went to my parents room to see if they had woken me by accident. I stood just outside their open door, and watched. Father was watching Mother brush her hair, and they were conversing quietly. I was just about to go back to bed, when all hell broke loose.
Twelve men broke in through the window, and quickly overpowered my parents. Then they forced Father upright, making him watch as they all raped my mother, one by one. When they were finished, they slit Jado and Mirini from their necks to their waists.
I started to scream. One glanced up and saw me by the door. He said something, something like, "There's the one we want!" They started for me, but Uncle ran in, snatched me up, and raced outside. As we escaped, the house burst into flames behind us.
Josh just looked at me quizzically. I must have laughed without knowing it. It's strange to realize you committed your first murder at five years old. For millennia, I thought Uncle killed my parents' murderers, but it was really me.
I cannot tell you about the next nine years. I spent them in a gray haze. All I remember is my training, in fighting and magic. That was it.
Then, when I was fourteen, I met Micha. He was a year older than me, with dark hair, green eyes, and a face as gorgeous as Brad Pitt. I fell in love at first sight. Well, in infatuation, at least.
I was on a hill, staring up at the stars and playing with the hem of my robe, as I usually did at that time of night, when Micha came through the trees, sat down beside me, and introduced himself. I was rather surprised, because Uncle ruled my world, and most people weren't interested in me, only in what Uncle could do for them. I was simply the Princess; his apprentice, of sorts, and ward. No one important, not even an heir, since it was assumed Uncle would live forever. So when Micha started talking to me about . . .oh, normal things, I was somewhat shocked.
He must have sensed my wariness, because he laughed in that beautiful deep voice of his and said, "Trust me, Princess, I have no wish to use you to get to your Uncle. In fact, I've been trying to use him to get to you for about three years now. He's the one who told me you'd be here, if you were wondering."
"Why?" Was all I could think of to ask.
A bemused expression fell over his face, and he mused, "You know, you have the most beautiful voice I have ever heard. So low and husky . . .it matches you."
I blushed, and he chuckled kindly, tilting my chin up so he could look at me. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you," he murmured.
I'm ashamed to admit I blushed even more, partly because I had never talked with a boy the way I was talking to Micha, partly because his touch was so gentle and kind, and partly because he was the most beautiful boy/man I had ever seen. I was fourteen, for God's sake! What did you expect?
And so he began to woo me. It didn't take long. After a few weeks, my infatuation had turned to true love. Most would say that I was only fourteen, how could I know what love was? But back then, magic chose our mates for us. The first time Micha kissed me, the night we met, literal sparks shot from me to him, and we both knew that we were meant for each other.
We had a rather long courtship, five years. We didn't know why, but for some reason, we waited to make anything official. I know this all sounds modern, and it was. Uncle evolved our world very, very quickly. So what you consider as modern now could have originated on my world. Anyway, we both agreed to wait.
So five years passed. On the day after my nineteenth birthday (a lot of things have happened to me the day after my birthday), Uncle called me out to the field, and tossed a sakri to me (it's called a katana now). "Read the inscription," he told me, and I lifted the blade to my eyes.
"The one who holds the blade is the last hope, and the last danger, to all the universe. If she succeeds, all will be illuminated. But if she fails, all shall be thrust into darkness," was etched in silver on the blade.
My confusion must have been evident, for Uncle said, "I'll explain all in a little while. But for now . . ." He attacked.
We must have fought for five, maybe ten minutes. Since the sun was shining, we both start to perspire, and our robes were soon plastered to our bodies. We both had light cuts that stung when our sweat hit them, and we both had torn each other's robes. It was not a pleasant fight.
Suddenly Uncle blocked me, and kicked my feet out from under me. I fell hard, and before I knew what was going on, he had thrust his sword deeply into my abdomen. All went black.
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When I came to, Uncle was holding Micha back with a hand to the chest. "Trust me," he growled at my love.
"Easy for you to say," Micha snapped back. "You just killed your own niece!"
"Not quite." Uncle spun Micha around and forced him to look at me. Micha's green eyes widened in shock as he saw me sitting up, coughing. He was immediately by my side, holding me close as he smoothed back my hair.
"Are you all right?" He gasped.
I didn't answer, my gaze on Uncle. He winced slightly at the coldness I knew was on my face, and said, "Why don't you make yourself comfortable, Princess. This is going to take awhile."
As I leaned into Micha's protective embrace, Uncle crouched down, took a deep breath, and began to speak. "Let's start with what you all ready know. There is the Light, and the Darkness. One cannot survive without the other, but occasionally, the Darkness tries to swallow the Light. Therefore, two Champions are born. You, my dear, are the Champion for the Light. And the Champion for the Darkness is . . ."
Before he could continue, I knew the answer. "No," I whispered, scrambling out of Micha's embrace as I shook my head, unable to accept what I knew he was going to say. "No!"
"Yes," Uncle sighed. "The Champion for the Darkness is . . .your brother, Jonathan. He killed your parents."