A/N WOW! Can you believe I actually made it to the THIRD story in a trilogy? I am so proud of myself. Hello one and all and welcome to Turning Back. If you're new here, you may read at the severe risk of being confused. However, I highly recommend reading Never Turn Back and The Return before attempting to get involved with this.
For those of you returning: THANK YOU!!! I really appreciate it like whoa. This story is following Grace after...well, you know. She's in America now *gasp* and our little friend Charlie is seven years old...and not quite what you'd expect. Have fun, don't forget to review!
Love always,
Harmony
Turning Back
Part III of the Emperor's Dagger Trilogy
By: Harmony Slytherin
Prologue:
The Princess and the Paupers
The people of Imperial Parsel were shocked. After seventeen years of peace, the Emperor had finally lost his mind. It was the only reason the people could devise that he would expel his beloved daughter and only heir from the kingdom.
Princess Annabella of Imperial Parsel was transported off the island in secrecy to hide her swelling belly. She was obviously pregnant now, Salazar's child growing inside her. He had not responded to her urgent letters demanding that he come to her aid and claim the child. What had once been love and passion for him now turned to bitter resentment. How could he do this to her?
She was still beautiful, even with the child in her womb. Nothing could hide eyes hair of liquid gold and eyes the color of a summer sky. Her eyes were shimmering with crystal tears as she watched the boat sail away, abandoning her forever on the unknown continent of Europe. She had never ventured more than an hour's ride from the palace in all her life, and now she found herself completely surrounded by strangers who spoke a language she didn't understand.
She tried desperately to find a peasant who spoke Parseltongue, but to know avail. They just looked at her as if she were crazy. After days of wandering, she sat on the edge of the muddy road and let her tears fall, ready to give up forever.
It was then that a kindly monk stopped to investigate the crying, pregnant woman. Annabella tried to speak to him, but he didn't understand a word. He didn't need to. Without asking questions, he took her to a convent. The younger nuns sneered, but the Reverend Mother took the princess in and dressed her humbly. Annabella looked at the woman with tears of gratitude in her eyes, allowing herself to become a peasant, slowly learning Italian, and do everyday work she had always considered beneath her.
The nuns also opened her eyes to Christianity, an entirely new and very Muggle experience. She held onto the faith they instilled in her desperately. During those lonely months with the nuns she turned to a God she had never heard of before, chanting prayers in a tongue she was only beginning to understand.
Her child was born on a rainy night in April. It was a son with bright blue eyes like her own and dark tufts of hair that matched his father's. Annabella named him Galdinus after the saint who had founded the city near the convent and prayed fervently that one day her son would return to Parsel and take his rightful place as Crown Prince.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A young boy sat up, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He remembered his dream with alarming clarity, and hurried out of his tiny room and into the bedroom next door. He hated to wake his mother, who looked almost as young as she really was in sleep, with her fiery hair spread around her and her face relaxed. But there was no time to lose.
She awoke easily, took one look at his face, and gave him the unnecessary, albeit brief, lecture on packing only what was absolutely necessary. He ran into his room and packed his small, brown knapsack. He ran into the living room. His mother's purse was on a chair, and she was hastily throwing things into her suitcase with her pathetic wardrobe. The boy stood watching silently, his worried brown eyes following her every move.
She swung the purse over her arm and gripped the suitcase firmly with one hand. Her other hand took hold of her son's wrist, and they sneaked out of the apartment silently.
They didn't hear the sounds of the intruders until they were halfway down the three flights of stairs separating them from freedom. Without pausing more than a second the woman lifted her son onto her back and began to run, praying silently all the while. Not that she believed in God, but it couldn't hurt.
She dodged a red stream of light, followed by another and another. Her son was clutching to her desperately. Biting her lip, she made it out of the apartment complex and ran to her beat-up old car. It was really a streak of luck that she had the car, and she hated to leave it, but they would be able to follow it.
She risked taking the car to the bus station. The boy remained silent throughout the ordeal, clutching to the bag as most young children clutched to stuffed animals. His mother looked at him painfully, but the boy just stared straight ahead.
The station was pretty much deserted, seeing as it was nearly two in the morning. She didn't like the eerie silence at all. She walked slowly, her head turning from side to side suspiciously, her grip on her son's hand so strong her knuckles were white. She turned a corner and let out a scream when she saw a man, who promptly clamped his hand over her mouth. The boy's eyes widened.
The child's name was Charlie. His mother's name was Grace. The man's name was Tom.
For those of you returning: THANK YOU!!! I really appreciate it like whoa. This story is following Grace after...well, you know. She's in America now *gasp* and our little friend Charlie is seven years old...and not quite what you'd expect. Have fun, don't forget to review!
Love always,
Harmony
Turning Back
Part III of the Emperor's Dagger Trilogy
By: Harmony Slytherin
Prologue:
The Princess and the Paupers
The people of Imperial Parsel were shocked. After seventeen years of peace, the Emperor had finally lost his mind. It was the only reason the people could devise that he would expel his beloved daughter and only heir from the kingdom.
Princess Annabella of Imperial Parsel was transported off the island in secrecy to hide her swelling belly. She was obviously pregnant now, Salazar's child growing inside her. He had not responded to her urgent letters demanding that he come to her aid and claim the child. What had once been love and passion for him now turned to bitter resentment. How could he do this to her?
She was still beautiful, even with the child in her womb. Nothing could hide eyes hair of liquid gold and eyes the color of a summer sky. Her eyes were shimmering with crystal tears as she watched the boat sail away, abandoning her forever on the unknown continent of Europe. She had never ventured more than an hour's ride from the palace in all her life, and now she found herself completely surrounded by strangers who spoke a language she didn't understand.
She tried desperately to find a peasant who spoke Parseltongue, but to know avail. They just looked at her as if she were crazy. After days of wandering, she sat on the edge of the muddy road and let her tears fall, ready to give up forever.
It was then that a kindly monk stopped to investigate the crying, pregnant woman. Annabella tried to speak to him, but he didn't understand a word. He didn't need to. Without asking questions, he took her to a convent. The younger nuns sneered, but the Reverend Mother took the princess in and dressed her humbly. Annabella looked at the woman with tears of gratitude in her eyes, allowing herself to become a peasant, slowly learning Italian, and do everyday work she had always considered beneath her.
The nuns also opened her eyes to Christianity, an entirely new and very Muggle experience. She held onto the faith they instilled in her desperately. During those lonely months with the nuns she turned to a God she had never heard of before, chanting prayers in a tongue she was only beginning to understand.
Her child was born on a rainy night in April. It was a son with bright blue eyes like her own and dark tufts of hair that matched his father's. Annabella named him Galdinus after the saint who had founded the city near the convent and prayed fervently that one day her son would return to Parsel and take his rightful place as Crown Prince.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A young boy sat up, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He remembered his dream with alarming clarity, and hurried out of his tiny room and into the bedroom next door. He hated to wake his mother, who looked almost as young as she really was in sleep, with her fiery hair spread around her and her face relaxed. But there was no time to lose.
She awoke easily, took one look at his face, and gave him the unnecessary, albeit brief, lecture on packing only what was absolutely necessary. He ran into his room and packed his small, brown knapsack. He ran into the living room. His mother's purse was on a chair, and she was hastily throwing things into her suitcase with her pathetic wardrobe. The boy stood watching silently, his worried brown eyes following her every move.
She swung the purse over her arm and gripped the suitcase firmly with one hand. Her other hand took hold of her son's wrist, and they sneaked out of the apartment silently.
They didn't hear the sounds of the intruders until they were halfway down the three flights of stairs separating them from freedom. Without pausing more than a second the woman lifted her son onto her back and began to run, praying silently all the while. Not that she believed in God, but it couldn't hurt.
She dodged a red stream of light, followed by another and another. Her son was clutching to her desperately. Biting her lip, she made it out of the apartment complex and ran to her beat-up old car. It was really a streak of luck that she had the car, and she hated to leave it, but they would be able to follow it.
She risked taking the car to the bus station. The boy remained silent throughout the ordeal, clutching to the bag as most young children clutched to stuffed animals. His mother looked at him painfully, but the boy just stared straight ahead.
The station was pretty much deserted, seeing as it was nearly two in the morning. She didn't like the eerie silence at all. She walked slowly, her head turning from side to side suspiciously, her grip on her son's hand so strong her knuckles were white. She turned a corner and let out a scream when she saw a man, who promptly clamped his hand over her mouth. The boy's eyes widened.
The child's name was Charlie. His mother's name was Grace. The man's name was Tom.