Deep blue eyes stared unblinking at the vast expanse of water flanking the eastern face of the castle. The sun was setting and it bathed the horizon in rich tones of burnt orange and ruddy gold; the surrounding clouds in deep and intense hues of indigo and violet.

A contented sigh slipped past the young woman's lips as she drank in the natural beauty. She never got sick watching these sunsets by the sea. Prior to coming to Замок Дракона (Zamok Drakona) she had never even laid eyes on the sea before. She had been born and raised in the deep mountain Elvish Empire of Kyaltaesi, and had never dreamed of the sea before. It had been the only thing that had brought her any form of solace and comfort when she had been uprooted from her home and carted off to serve the almighty great King Yegor Nikiforov. The young woman snorted in a very unladylike manner as she recalled how she had been practically dragged, kicking and screaming, to serve that pompous ass.

"Mila! Watch your manners, child. You are a princess. You should act like one."

The young woman looked over disdainfully at her maid servant Lilia. The old woman was an uptight and cantankerous nag. Lilia had been sent to the castle by her mother to ensure that she would continue to receive elven education and be taught the ways of their people. She suspected that her mother had specifically chosen Lilia as a kind of punishment for all the grief she had given her as a child.

"Yes, yes…of course Lilia."

She turned her head and rolled her eyes as she resumed watching the sunset. I've never cursed my birthright as much as I had, then. Being the first-born of the King and Queen of Kyaltaesi had sealed her fate the day she'd been brought into the world. All thanks to a clause stipulated in the peace treaty between their two kingdoms. For just under 500 years, her proud race had been forced to send their sons and daughters to Occidentis to keep the ice dragons happy.

In her first year at the castle, she had managed to run away at least twice a month. She smirked, knowing that she had given the ice dragon clan much more than they had bargained for. To human eyes, she had appeared no older than 6 years old when she had arrived, but in elven years, she had already been in her 20s. They had underestimated her because of her size, and she had outsmarted them all. She was a free spirit, one who refused to be tamed or confined. Her temper was legendary, and everything, down to the auburn color of her hair, screamed 'spitfire'. She viewed herself as indomitable. It was only when her mother had desperately pleaded with her to end her rebellion before it ruined things between their kingdoms forever that she had finally acquiesced and 'behaved' herself. She had made her mother promise, however, that she would not be forced to marry anyone from the Nikiforov family or his court.

Since then, she had lived through two and a half generations of the Nikiforov family. Things had become more bearable once Yegor had finally passed away and his son Dimitri had taken over. Dimitri had been a much better and kinder ruler than his father. He had still carried the overflowing arrogance that was the trademark of the Nikiforov family, but had at least been a more reasonable man than his father. He had foolishly attempted to court her, nearly driving her mad with his persistence, but she had firmly rebuffed all his efforts. Thankfully, Dimitri had then met Ekaterina (Katya) Kozlova at the royal spring ball and had become instantly smitten. Ekaterina was a shimmering beacon of beauty, grace and wit. She had floor length silver hair and eyes the color of the sea. She was fierce, cunning and not afraid to put the King in his place when he stepped out of line. They were married less than two months later and she bore the next Nikiforov heir before the year was over.

Ekaterina had treated Mila with nothing but respect and dignity from the first day they had ever met. Mila, in turn, had returned that respect and dignity a hundred-fold. The two of them had formed a friendship early on that had only grown stronger as the years passed. She suspected that they had both recognized a bit of themselves in each other, and that's what why they had always been able to get along well. Her son, Viktor, had thankfully taken after his mother in both looks and temperament. Mila can honestly say that Viktor was the first Nikiforov she actually liked. Katya had raised him with a loving, but firm hand. The elven princess' eyes filled with tears as she inevitably remembered the day Katya had been taken from them.

Viktor was only 14 years old when his mother died. The royal family had been on its way back to Occidentis from a diplomatic visit to a neighboring kingdom when a large pack of demons had ambushed their caravan a short distance away from the castle. They had been caught completely off-guard and had been unprepared to deal with the onslaught. Their only saving grace had been the presence of General Kemhebek Altin, a brave and decorated soldier who had repeatedly put his life on the line to protect the royal family. General Altin had commanded his four lieutenants to stay behind to fight off the demons and had gone ahead to escort the King, Queen and Prince to the castle with three of his top guards. Unbeknownst to them at the time, they had a traitor in their midst. A large bounty had been placed on Viktor's head by the Demon King. One of the royal guards had struck a deal with the demons. They had filled his head with promises of more gold than he'd know what to do with, and so the guard had turned on the family that had employed generation upon generation of their sons as royal guards. The guard had waited until everyone was distracted before he made his move. He had drawn his sword and charged at the prince, aiming straight for his heart. Certain that no one would be able to react in the time, the guard had felt confident that victory was all but assured. Instead, he had found his sword piercing the chest of the Queen. The guard had been immediately taken down by the other two, but it was too late for the Queen. She had sacrificed herself and given her life so that her son could live. She died in her husband's and son's arms a short time later, noble and dignified to the very end, while the others had looked on helplessly.

The entire castle, no kingdom, had gone into mourning at the loss of the Queen. Dimitri especially had been a total wreck; disoriented and despondent. The light had completely gone from his eyes and he had become an empty shell of his former self overnight. General Altin had immediately resigned from his post, citing his inability to protect the Queen as his greatest failure and shame. The guilt he felt dogged him and followed him to the grave. During the wake, Viktor had been a silent, stoic and unreadable statue. He had mechanically thanked all those who had stopped by to offer their condolences, having taken the duty over from his father, who had been catatonic throughout the entire ordeal. At the funeral, everyone had been shocked to discover that Prince Viktor had cut off his long locks as a sign of respect for his departed mother and his profound mourning. His face had remained impassive, and he had not openly shed a single tear since the death of the Queen. People began to question if he was even upset over the Queen's death at all, but Mila knew better. She had been there when Viktor had completely broken down and lost himself in the overwhelming grief and loss. She had held him and comforted him while his pain had resonated within her own heart. Katya had been like a sister to her, and the loss had hit her hard. In private, when it was just the two of them, they allowed themselves to grieve openly. Publicly, they put on a mask for those around him. Viktor's father had completely fallen apart, and it was up to him to be the strong one and take charge. The whole kingdom would have crumbled had both of them gone into a tailspin.

Dimitri had sunk further and further into depression as time passed. Viktor found himself having to take over more and more royal duties from his father. He was forced to grow up fast and became the new king in every way but on paper. No one was really surprised when less than four years after Ekaterina's death, Dimitri followed after her, having died from a broken heart. He had steadily wasted away during those years and had even begun refusing to leave his chambers toward the end. He had simply lost the will to live. And so, not even one month after his eighteenth birthday, Viktor Nikforov made history by becoming the youngest Nikiforov in half a millennium to ascend to the throne. The four years of having unofficially ruled the kingdom turned out to benefit the new king greatly. He had gained most of the knowledge and prestige needed to transition into his new role smoothly.

That had been 10 years ago. During this time, Viktor had grown into a king Mila was truly proud of. He looked so much like his mother that sometimes looking at him took her breath away. For a split second she'd feel as if she were staring into the face of her dearly departed Katya. He had the same silvery hair and sea-blue eyes, and thankfully only a smidge of the Nikiforov conceit.

"You're thinking about her again, aren't you?"

Mila was startled out of her reverie by the sound of Lilia's voice.

"Yeah. Not a day goes by that I don't miss her."

"I know, child. You have done well to honor her memory by being such a good friend and adviser to King Viktor."

"It's the least I can do, you know? To try and help him grow into the kind of man that she'd be proud of."

"Let's not speak of such morose things. The night is young and the future of the kingdom is bright. Come, shall we have a dance lesson to get your mind off of things?"

Mila sighed as she stared out the window once more. The sun had disappeared fully behind the horizon and the moon was now visible in the sky.

"Perhaps I should have a dance lesson right now. Heaven knows I could use the distraction."

Mila tore herself away from the window and made her way to her wardrobe. She was in the middle of choosing her dancing outfit when her ears perked up at a familiar sound.

"Lilia…it's Ciocco! She's almost at the castle."

The older woman seemed a bit surprised at the news.

"That's the assassin's hawk. She's away on a mission right now with her brother and that young archer boy, no?"

"Right." Mila ran over to her desk and grabbed her padded glove. Her ears swiveled around once more and she gasped.

"What is it, child? What does she say?"

"She has an urgent message. She's been flying all day without stopping. Lilia, she's absolutely exhausted!"

The older woman was immediately on her feet.

"I'll prepare some water and food for her."

"Thank you, Lilia."

Mila had inherited quite a few things from her father, including the color of her hair as well as her strength. She had also inherited his abilities as a 'whisperer'. A whisperer was someone who could hear the thoughts of creatures and communicate with them. She was a rather powerful one. She ran back up to the window and extended her gloved hand out into the night. I'm here. I await you.

Less than a minute later, the beautiful brown hawk landed on her outstretched arm. Mila immediately pulled her arm into the room and stroked the bird's head gently. She reached down and pulled the small slip of paper from the hawk's leg.

"Good girl, Ciocco. You did very well. I shall tell Sara of your bravery next time I see her."

The bird's chest heaved as it panted from sheer exhaustion.

Just then, Lilia returned to the room with water and fresh meat for the bird of prey. Mila set the bird down in a makeshift nest she always had at the corner of her room. While Lilia tended to the bird, she unrolled the paper.

"Revelare."

The gibberish symbols on the page changed into letters and rearranged themselves on the page. Mila read the message and groaned.

Lilia was instantly by her side.

"It it bad news, child?"

Mila nodded. "The worst news. It seems that they've been separated from Squire Plisetsky and they have no idea where he is. I bet you anything that little bastard ran off on his own and managed to get himself into trouble or worse."

Mila quickly rolled up the piece the piece of paper.

"I need to take this message to Viktor immediately. This requires immediate action. Keep an eye on Ciocco. Don't let her eat until she's cooled down completely."

"As you wish, lady Mila."

The young redhead rolled her eyes as she opened the door and ran out in search of the king.

_terminology_

Zamok Drakona (Castle Dragon)