Growing up in the castle was always fun. There were always hallways to explore, doors to peek through, and tapestries to hide behind. Ryesen, Kallan, and Ailith were best friends. They had been ever since they were old enough to walk. Being the children of those who worked in the castle, they knew where they could get away with being loud and knew when they shouldn't make a sound. They knew where they could play, and where they needed to be extra careful. At six years old, they were running around in the great hall, playing a game. Ryesen turned to run from Kallan, and thunk there was another human there. She held her head, trying not to cry, because whoever she had run into had been wearing protective armor, and now her head hurt. Looking up, she realized it was the king himself. She knew she was in very deep trouble.

"Careful little one, watch where you're going!" He laughed, a real laugh. Not a fake laugh that said 'oh, you're in for it now'.

"What? What dad? What happened? Did someone get hurt? Whose she?" a voice popped up behind him, asking way more questions than needed. Around the corner came Conor, the Kings six year old, middle child.

"What's your name?" The King asked her.

"Ryesen..." She stumbled through her words, nervous about what was going to happen to her.

"Who's your parents?" He asked.

"Momma works in the kitchen and my daddy is a guard man." She said, knowing what they had taught her to say if something like this ever were to happen.

"Alright. Would you mind if Conor joined you guys to play?" He asked.

Soon, they were all back to their game, no one really noticing the King and the Queen watching from the balcony at the top of the stairs.

"He's going to marry one of them someday." The King said quietly.

"What makes you so sure?" His wife asked him.

"The way he asked me about the little blonde headed girl. He wanted to know all about her, and I had never seen her before she ran into me."

"How have you not seen her? She and the other two little ones play all over the castle every day. I've had Conor's tutor start teaching them how to read and write as well, seeing as how they're old enough and they really do love to learn."

"Good. They are sweet kids, even if they are a bit rambunctious. It's good for Conor. He needs to get out of his shell more and be less confrontational with people."

     Twelve short years passed, and now, at 18, Conor had grown into a strong young man ready to take over for his father. He hadn't forgotten the girl he grew up with but also hadn't seen her in a very long time. Noblemen had presented their daughters for him to marry, but he hadn't even looked at them. They weren't her. They weren't Ryesen.

Two weeks before his coronation, the worst thing possible happened. War was declared on his father by a neighboring King.

Noblemen panicked and scrambled to try and sort things out, while Conor and his father sat calmly and discussed the best possible way to handle the declaration.

"Do we even act on this? It is real or is it just a jab for attention? Conor asked, wondering if there was a way around it.

"He's power-hungry. He wants our land and our people. You can't let him take it from you." His father told him, unsure of how to handle the news.

But, as fate would have it, war broke out. And it wasn't until two long years of fighting, bloodshed, and horrors that he finally could rightfully take the throne. He did so under the watchful eye of his mother, his younger brother, and the memory of his father, who had been killed in combat, devastating the kingdom. This, however, was what guaranteed their freedom to do as they pleased.