The underlying veneer of light in the sky before sunrise was healing her scars. The warmth of bed she lay upon and the gleam of light it set a dawn, heals the trifling leg wounds she doesn't particularly know what it caused, or who it caused by.

The passages of the Royal hospital, it was full of bursting flowers and oversized windows behind every bed, all of which was empty [https://img.wattpad.com/5358bca291d3908b218bec50a5722331eb7dfc5a/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f35546c62464b316159624e4567513d3d2d313135353637323937342e313662653563343661613565643266303837383039383438343034332e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]

The passages of the Royal hospital, it was full of bursting flowers and oversized windows behind every bed, all of which was empty. She seeing multiple nurses walking around, she was the only one laying down beyond the five nurses lurking about her medical room. Behind them and the arches of ceiling were numerous stacked crates loaded with colorful necromantic potions. Described and charted by the Doctor of Medicine, Syllena, her fingers were not enough to count her philter stories.

Magic was primarily the art of memory, no wands or appurtenances other than the mind of the magician, the mind is the only weapon be required. The only mind kin they love the stash in every sorcerer's houses, a distinct blood flowing down in common of House Caract; the golden elixir with the greatest mages of all time, the first known to cast a spell amongst the greatest countries.

Tears of Rime, the coldest liquid for the remedy of burns is in a simple sphere of potion glass, inside the hardened shell were smoking blue.

Crystal shards, a heavy crumbled salt coated with an inlay of black. Originated at the southern coast of Sicaris near the swarm between the cold massive crystal monuments, picked and cleansed with great power of magic.

Cestellrag potion in a mace-like form of glass under a chain used as a necklace. Grandest of all grandest of wizards with flowing robes, sorcerers and casters worthy of a magical praises was days are among them still.

Yanna: Spit out the morning dose to the bowl, your grace. The next potion is between your next meal.

The Queen's nurse, Yanna, told her to spit on the wooden bowl beside her bed. On her table is still on a steam of Pottage stew, the cook threw much more meat than the actual casserole as the queen wishes to, but not in the intent for the food was left over her side. The graceful tried to move her leg at the side of the bed, when reminds like a the burnt feels rubbing the white of bedsheet.

Queen Dester: Will this take me long to recover? It hurts, much...ugghh...uhh...

The sigh after a long distinct breath of agony comes along, she was on so much pain that the next painful stab-like of her skin is numb that even talking was tiring.

Hands crossed at hid of her sleeves, taking off the bandage wrapping her left leg. The wound she saw and felt sticky, having a bad odor because of decomposition or decay upon its long time shrouded.

Yanna: Lord Artifar told me to bring Princess Sandra to you before the noon comes on. He and the Princess also tagged along their position for you while you're under protection of potion healing.

She then soaked her leg on a cold comfortable crystalline placed on a stone white basin, it was the best thing she ever felt upon the pain in the fullness of time.

Yanna: It only takes two or three solar for you to be off the bed, your grace. Don't you worry, we are here to make you feel better. The wounds are easy to deal with, you are in a great hands and so your Lord Brother and Princess Sister is in good condition of your royal principles.

She imparted beyond the pain to make Queen Sandra feel better. The convalescent home underneath the castle she was not used to, the citrus and gardenias with heavy scent and lovely white flowers inside, for her it was horrific. After hearing the term of ephemeral dismissal of her title for three days, her head is rising slow, in a state of shock that the healing process will ruin the country under the management of her siblings.

She is surprised how they already know the consideration of her sibling's titles.

Queen Dester: You let them sign the seal of approval without...my consent? All of you must've helped me carry on to my duty, instead...you all just watched me gone down to my own steps. It was easy to say, yes, but it was better for me to stay.

She fumed silent, her hands cupped her stiff hips while she was half sitting on her wooly gorgeous bed. Dester saw her nurse Yanna looks straight to the hanging textile of white, fear to look into her wide eyes and raising brows. She gathered all strength that she had to intimidate those whose eyes are locked into her actions. A threat burst into flames as the queen mentioned her dragon can all devour an entire city, and so is them.

The nurse gulped slight and she already knew something terrible is about to come pouring out of her mouth, but the truth must prevail upon the ears of the queen.

Yanna: Your sister made the consent my Queen, ours should not be to blame.

The small prayer made the queen rest her head on the high bolster, a mistake perhaps a thing that is already been done.

She drank herself Talking about a stunted specie of dragon incomparable to one of the candidates among the Reviathan regime; Rio Hallery, The Dragon mistress of Castle Egareth. Mouthing about her contribution and sacrifices onto their professional faces. Without her help to slay the traitor beyond the unknown region of iron armed trolls; ugly monstrous being, sometimes possessing magic and powerful ability. Within the ages of threatening deception of different races, the lands are always on the edge of starvation and thirst, fighting amongst their neighbors and guard beyond their suspicious sudden arrival.

The medicinal fluid termed Married Floret potion of crushed coriander and fresh lemon balm was kicking into her head, she felt dizziness and a strong taste on her tongue. She remembered at the first of night she saw it flying, as red as the spittle she left on the kindling little mound. The feeling of guilt is still in her, the forces were driven back by a marauding army of the terrifying black figure, roaring at the shade of night. Her eyes shut close and a beat might stop when she heard one of the lady soldier has sunken beneath, the sound of the wailing soul has faded through.

Unaccompanied by fervency, she reaches out to the man pushing the door with its arms struggling wrapping around a heavy chest, in latch of another reward with a cold sweat dripping down his hair.

Queen Dester: Jacken. If you would be so kind...May I have your time for me?

The man in carefully frayed armor without an iron headdress, stood as if rooted on the spot where he placed the last wooden chest. Including himself to the workers at some point, but not expecting the gentleness of stinking smear beyond her red pointed lips.

Sir Jacken: I speak for Princess Sandra of House Saneya, the first of one's name. Your commands are mine to take, your grace. Have in prospect for your words to cede in your sister.

The queen heard a hurried fright in his voice, and a withdrawn bashful stare of eyes. In the guardianship of her love as well as the princess known to be the Queen's red sister, the oath is his to guard the stamp of inclusion, and it was his to protect the sprucing up being to disfeature in no time. His foot lies so smooth for he is trained in the arts of stealth and misdirection, a skill to kill and save lives like how he reduced the harm amongst the swarm in the Island of Viloria that night.

Queen Dester: Stop looking down...look at me like a real knight. Do not get onto your own pride when you save us from death. Bring me my sister together with the paper indicating... the agreement of mine, an authorization of the contents signed by my own...before both of them choose to temporarily take my reign.

Half of her pupil was gazing at his, burns and unmoving. This is way different from your concern, she thought. The unhappiness ruled her head like a burning crown, it seemingly hurts and slowly dies.

For her reign will continue as expected to happen but a breach of trust leaped its claws in the opposite direction of her own vision, especially when she know they serve as fierce and honest companions [https://img.wattpad.com/f25227c4a1d8e789266ff2d53bd5fd67f7cfb535/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f5f30573642614f35566f54494e773d3d2d313135353637323937342e313662653563376465633031396533303439373935323634383238342e676966?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]

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For her reign will continue as expected to happen but a breach of trust leaped its claws in the opposite direction of her own vision, especially when she know they serve as fierce and honest companions. She'll decimate those who think to test her, but those who earn her studied favor will be granted an abiding gift of life.

One of the elite fighters of the shining armor of dragon wings, embedded, hammered in the helm which guarding the land of mentioned creature. Jacken were not in the taste of pretending, his code of chivalry for the time the Queen commands him to bring her siblings in the chamber where they are, he acted in accordance with it.

A test perhaps; obeying those placed in authority, courtesy, and the salvation of ones honor for the red gracious queen. Now he was out, cast around for the sake of slapping their faces with the lawful, justifiable reality. Queen Dester fills the gap of her eyes with another, the fashion high above never made her mouth a smirk. Her finger plays the brown of hair, twisting the strands and putting a press onto the left thumb.

A triumphant concomitant potion of the Married Floret, it stung her mind that is not even known by herself. The medicine got turned her physical and mental feature which is regarded as indicating a condition of disease, particularly such a feature that is familiar to the lands, specific to the southern pile of the World Shore countries. Arching her back, feeling the burn inside above her stomach.

Queen Dester: Get me some wine, please.

She remarked the nurse with a stitch of her mouth, whispered lively.

Yanna: I'm sorry your grace, it was not prescribed by the great sources of medical books~

It shore up and fold the reverence beyond the gods she believed to be in the presence of holy light.

Queen Dester: Get me some wine...please. Your queen moves of his own accord.

The nurse in the hesitation of her precarious measures while she bowled up, she took the narrow neck clay pitcher that contains the Medallion grape wine of incalculable value. Herbal infusions were generally served for patients like her and medical purposes such as she needed it.

Yanna: If it please your grace, I need to consult more patients outside. Call me by my name and I will be here for you.

The Queen didn't answer a single word, cannot bother to be distracted scratching her pet's spotless fur, laying down with her in the bed. Wanting for any response, she did not get anything but to hold the ring latches of iron and got outside to check on more people to heal to. A nonexistent system of kindness after she was locked in the chamber of loneliness, there summons a horde of prickling conscience.

Dented her fingerprint on the glass, her cough was dry caused by the besom of healing shock. A person smile can never hide after a pet pounce towards, her white cat was with her, a collar dangles across its neck.

A moment later the silence broke and the world shows no crumbles any longer, it was the birds flew beyond the tree where either a lifeless innocent is again swaying. She is in place, laying down thinking by days of three she will not see the lively kingdom of hers. The castle are the strongest thing for miles around, it is built of stones from leagues of the south, a queen reminded by a drop of tears that she is proud of what she built. The intimate vision, it is as big as the dragons soaking beside the huge moat of the battlement walls, from the hatchling of stupendous scaly monsters bordering the markets with spilling waters.

The Castle Egareth banner, the only house of the massive majestic creatures, the crown of the vast western landscape and protector of the ancient dragon born people. It was carved a golden dragon spiraling the highest Queen's tower, polished by skilled craftsmen which gives a unique varying sizes and shapes. Each one of the building are unique and overwhelming, especially the one that keeps the mouth of the dragon open before the heavens soar.

From a distance it is figured a glossy mineral, a symbol twisting its scaly limb have their duty and their code, for they see the world of men as a tale of endless lunacy. Their fire, poison, and ice is ejected to peel off the false treasures in their skin, for the hope that mankind will learn once again to every dirty mess they scattered across every secluded plains and peaceful hills.

We grow through what we go to, she thought.

The door opened casually, like it was just as normal as a hut's string weaved gateway. A typical and serious about the titles, they are fresh by its looks and as glorious as the monarchy it holds them both. Full length and long sleeve, golden threads for lace work tunic and gown for the princess younger. Black of doublet and pants skinned without its armor, boots of metal onto his feet...and a paper scrolled upon the lord's hands as she wished.

Queen Dester: What has ruined your suffering...my siblings? Never make a deal with a ferocious dragon, unless you're prepared to keep the end of it.

She is still in pain of the inflicted wounds. Giving a thing to whirl for their decisions made, the kingdom will change for a short period of the world's revolt. A message like a straight arrow pointed towards their faces. She saw them smirk like the chamber they gone through meant nothing. From the face of his Lord Brother, it seems that he doesn't want his stallion stand for long. But a princess calm is enough to make the breeze windless for such given time.

A hand that cannot wield a sword, can never cast a spell with a staff, can never find herself being in a position where people rise up to their seats, and bow down with their knees planted in the ground. Lord Artifar Saneya, Hand of the Egareth's fine work and a warden of such vast castle. He handed the scroll that contains somewhat she believed the 'consent' the queen never made.

Then there came his voice surfing the cold air like his breath, as low and cunning as a waves of the sea. Smaller by seal of ones own title, but a larger known flaunt by the time that they were born in the real world. Down his arms wrapped with the other right of the lady, and back a little hunch to remissness what nothing hears but a queen at the top of her own voice.

Lord Artifar: Blame us not for the lack of warning when your life goes weak, my lovely sister. The castle needed a right reserve for your own position. We acted like how you named us the servants of your reign, we did not take your Queenly pride, but we take the initiative you ordain in.

Tapping the clutch of his sword, he is calm as still water. He wished she would be feel better before anything goes wrong by the time they are in charged. It must be a better form for her graceful self, a kind she accepted one of the hardest finds to get. From an endorsement of her siblings title, battling amongst the dark with a purpose after all, but for her suffering from the ill and wounds were the whys and wherefores she consider it as laying the guilt.

A comfort from the color of her catchy dress, she turned her own to the side of her brother. The smile sweet as she know young and looks used from the time she destined herself reign across the black of seas, disappointed many, but this time promised the queen sister since the paper signed is the path headway to be like a queen herself.

Princess Sandra: Don't you worry, I may not be the Queen of Reviathan as they know I should be, the Gods gave me chances of three days to brim over of my fantastical kingdom [https://img.wattpad.com/c1d005bf8d2d15c01ff63a470f636154b557871d/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f72356977324b384b7878677a56773d3d2d313135353637323937342e313662653563623032366363313533663430313433343039323935302e676966?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]

Princess Sandra: Don't you worry, I may not be the Queen of Reviathan as they know I should be, the Gods gave me chances of three days to brim over of my fantastical kingdom. An honor for you to grant me that.

She held her smooth cold hands, shivers, and kissed it. The morning breeze go in circles at the spur of the staggering moment. Turning the served feast by the table is one by many she can confirm to do. When she saw her face lay no pale, by worry in the absence of shivering hands and awe from eyes and tears left hidden.

She spat her fire across their sweetness of words and swung her hands back away from the red kiss of her sister.

Queen Dester: Go ahead! Leave me be by the chills of my bed while both of you cheers above the peak of my castle. Think about going up the throne of mine and keep pretending that you don't see my liverish state of health.

She drank another filled glass of cherry read, and the hostility of her heart made the precious wine spill by the tablecloth.

Queen Dester: Heh, Sandra wished for an honor, another grant with a promise that makes me suffer more. Art, It was the same as you think a shield can still keep you alive, but unlucky of you, I know how to destroy what keeps you safe. My army is still mine, don't you think?

The queen growled and chuckled, played a trick and guess for what might come to them after those triple solar circle of daylight. She was carrying conviction on every warm breath she spew out of that mouth.

Artifar clutched out his sword and drawn his feet to the nearby chair beside her bed, he walked slow and careless. Her sister's eyes are filled with dreaded reverence, the recalls of that glorious night time names were her own screams echoing in her ears.

No gods seems to answer their kneeling worship on that time of twilight, carrying a lifeless body of a soldier and her beast back to the world, where the damned and the splendid ones are barred behind the thick pile of clouds. The Queen remembered the clock running, she too. In the front of figureless horde is her flyer being slashed open, limbs scattered into pieces in a drenched cold blood, swimming joint into the gushing water.

Her brother said upon his deep voice. When he talks about what or where, everyone listens for it will be relevant and always remembered.

When he talks about what or where, everyone listens for it will be relevant and always remembered [https://img.wattpad.com/eab7520a275c8dff25ccbd54825dc13da2e7b5d5/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f46636d3649784d364a716b5731773d3d2d313135353637323937342e313662653563623433303561636438353931313238383439393232302e676966?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]

Lord Artifar: There is not much time for anything else my lady. The capitol heard the news about what happened last night, they were on a panic. We've sent more men, and regard as being two thousand, half of them are the tribesmen of the southern land forces.

Putting down her wine as calm as possible, she heard those information as were not in her written plans. Accepting it truthfully, the trust was coming together when all was said and done.

Queen Dester: I will allow you both to keep the promises...and vows you've taken. Make it stronger than how you said it, keep the country alive and well. I will expect this to be as great as how I left it for just a period, I will be back, If I will live.

She sipped her last cup and told them to go.

The air was cold and menacing, uninviting for a company. For the morning until night she wanted peace, both of her siblings left a weapon, a gift perhaps what is called an assurance. The last glimpse of his pride and a smile swilled down with honor. A seal of faith what keeps her close to Sandra but not until she was together with her lover upon her hands. Thinking it will go down like a ship destroyed in a sailing, it was happy in the first dock but dreadful in the last step of voyage.