19 years ago. On the road between the Galand capital and the trade city of Eastel.
A royal convoy had stopped on the side of the road. The knights guarding it had encircled the largest and most elaborate Carriage. They all looked tense as if a battle could erupt at any moment. Just then a scream could be heard coming from the Carriage.
“AAAAHHHHH!”
Inside the Carriage a woman dressed in a magnificent gown was bracing her feet on the bench in front of her. Her blue hair that had once been up in an elaborate braided bun now hung loose drenched in sweat clinging to her face. The look of pain could be read easily across her face as she screamed again
“AAAAHHHHH!”
A well-Dressed man knelt beside her, gripping her hands. He was rather thin for a man, but his face still held a commanding presence. His medium length brown hair was pulled into a loose ponytail that hung low on his neck. He had a full well-maintained beard that wrapped around his strong jaw line. He leaned into the woman whose hand he was holding and pressed his head against hers.
“You are doing great My love, hang in there.”
“What would you know?” The woman snapped back
The man said nothing at her reply, just gripped her hand tighter.
“My queen, there is a problem. I think the baby is in distress.” A younger man was positioned in front of the queen. His face knitted in a worrying expression. He was pale and showed he was struggling to retain his composure.
“That is not good.” The queen replied with her own worried look.
“I am sorry my queen, I am not well versed in this. I only know simple healing magic. I am unsure what we should do.”
“We have no choice, we must hurry, or she will not make it.” A look of determination appeared on the queen’s face as she looked to her husband.
“My love, I know the first born has always been girls as far back as the oldest records but…”
“My blood is strong. It is a girl. She is your next queen, so she must survive.”
Again, the man next to his wife could not respond and only held her.
While all this happened, a young boy was shoved into the corner and all but forgotten. He had just turned 7 the week prior. He was aware roughly as to what was happening before him, but he was unsure what he should be doing to help. Just then the younger man assisting the queen with the birth turned to the young boy.
“Son, find something to wrap the princess in. She will be here soon.”
The boy was a dutiful son and snapped to task at his father’s command. He jumped to his feet and knew exactly what he should get. He stood on the bench of the carriage and pulled his own bag down from a compartment above the seat. He reached in and pulled out a white blanket. It had a small simple sparrow embroidered in the corner.
The boy knew he was getting too old to carry this around everywhere. It was one of the last things he had of his mother. He had never had a chance to know her, but this blanket had kept him warm many nights when his mother’s embrace could not. He held it close to his face and he asked his mother for her love and protection. Then shoved the blanket at his father, unable to look at him when he did.
The man looked toward his son and saw that he was giving his treasure memento over in the hopes it would help… somehow. The father could not understand how his son had grown up so well without his mother. His compassion and empathy for others knew no limit. The father took the blanket from his son’s hands squeezing them slightly when he did.
“My queen, we are almost there. One more push and the princess will be here.”
“A…Annasta…sia…” The queen had lost all color from her face and looked as if she may pass out.
“WHO ARE YOU!” the King screamed.
“I am…The Queen of Galand Milena Volkov, Daughter of Queen Natahsa Volkov.” Some color came back to the queen’s face as if through pure willpower.
“I SAID WHO ARE YOU.” The king yelled again.
“I am the defender of my people. I am their sword against injustice. I am the shield that will protect the weak. I will be a beacon of hope for all. I am The Queen of Galand Milena Volkov, Daughter of Queen Natahsa Volkov… AAAAHHHHH”
“That’s it my queen! Push!”
The boy had not turned back to the scene until this moment. The words the queen spoke affected him for some reason. He could not understand why he felt the way he did, but he could not turn away from her.
“There she is out.” The young man quickly wrapped the princess in his son's blanket. His face twisted in fear. “My queen, she is not crying. I am unsure what to do…. My queen?” The man looks up to the queen having used the last of her energy just then could barely keep her eyes open.
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“Save… her… help Anastasia.” The queen then passed out.
“My love, NO please wake up. Don’t do this! Please!” The king could only beg as he clung to his queen.
The young man looked at the baby in his arms, his hands already glowing green. A pained expression grew over his face. He placed the baby down on the bench next to him. He rubbed his hand on her cheek.
“I am sorry Princess Anastasia. I do this for the kingdom.”
The man then moves over to the queen. The green aura around his hands glowing brightly.
The king looked up from his wife and looked over to his daughter as it had finally dawned on him that he should hear her cries.
“Stop! You heard the order from the queen. Help the princess first.”
“Sire, I must heal the queen first. If she dies everything is lost.”
“But she gave you an order Frances, do it.”
“I refuse. She can punish me how she sees fit after. If the queen dies now, they will take power and the princess will die anyway.” Frances went back to his work healing the queen.
The king hung his head in shame. He was too weak to protect his wife from those that wish to take her throne and now he was too weak to even help his daughter take her first breath. As he looked at the bundle of cloth wrapped around his daughter, he saw Frances’s son approaching her.
The boy had heard the command his queen had given. Most would have assumed she was speaking to Frances as he was in the best position to help the new princess. The boy was unsure why he knew the queen was speaking to him.
The boy had never manipulated mana before, but he had seen his father do it many times. His father would just hold his hands out and they would glow. His father would sometimes close his eyes and appear to be straining or focusing. The boy reached out on instinct and closed his eyes. He was unsure where he should lay his hands, so he placed one on the princess’s forehead and the other on her chest.
The boys’ hands started to glow, and the king gasped. Startled, Frances looked at the king. Then followed his eyes over to the children. Frances understood what was happening, but his mind could not comprehend how it was happening. It did not matter now. He had to finish healing the queen or the princess' sacrifice would be for nothing.
Time seemed to pass slowly. To the king it felt like an eternity as he watched his beloved queen dying in his arms, unsure what to make of France's son in front of him. No one had ever heard of a 7-year-old that could cast magic. Even if the boy was able to, healing was one of the hardest skills to master, most needed at least 5 years of study to use it with any real proficiency.
Coughing could be heard next to him as the king looked up to see the queen’s eyes opening. The queen looked around trying to get a sense of what was going on. She saw Frances kneeling in front of her, his hands on her abdomen. She could not see or hear her daughter. Rage filled the queen and she lashed out.
SLAP! The Queen struck Frances as hard as she could.
“I gave you an order to save Anastasia!”
The queens’ eyes were full of rage. She knew that every second Frances wasted on her lowered the changes for her daughter.
“My king, hold her down! If she injures herself all of this could be for nothing.”
The king grabbed his wife pulling her close trying to keep her laid back against the Carriage bench. The queen could no longer hold back, and she wept uncontrollably for her daughter. She knew there was nothing that she could do to save Anastasia.
In that moment the faint sound of a newborn baby’s cry could be heard in the background barely audible over the wailing of the queen. The crying steeled the queen as she tried to sit up. She looked past Frances to where he had laid Princess Anastasia. The brightest green light shown around the silhouette of a boy crouched over the newborn princess. The cries grew louder and louder as they approached the level of a scream. The baby desperately wanted to be held.
The king was frozen in amazement unable to take any action other than hang his jaw. Frances was still focused on healing the queen. Internal injuries are the hardest to treat. One is not able to tell when they are fully healed. The guideline was always heal twice as long as you would for external wounds and in very extreme cases until your mana ran out.
The boy looked over his shoulder and saw the queens outstretched hands pleading for her daughter. He scooped her up into his arms. He looked down at the princess and truly saw her for the first time. She was wrapped in the blanket his mother had made for him. The embroidered sparrow could be seen across the princess’s shoulder. As he picked up Anastasia she instantly stopped crying as he held her close to his chest. The queen shot a worried expression to the boy as the crying was the only thing telling her that her daughter was alive.
“Do not worry my queen, she is still fine. She just calmed down.” The boy said it so calmly as if the terror and panic the three adults in the carriage had been experiencing was somehow uncalled for. He approached the queen and handed her the princess.
The queen was finally able to lay her eyes on Anastasia for the first time and her tears of joy could not be held in any long. The queen held her daughter to her chest as tears streamed down her face, several falling onto the princess. This sudden strange sensation caused Anastasia to flinch. A small giggle could be heard from the queen at the sight of something so precious.
The boy backed away from the mother and daughter returning to the corner of the carriage.
“Findarin please come back.” The queen called for the boy, her hand reaching for him.
“My queen.” Findarin rose and moved toward the queen again. Once he was in range of her hand, she grabbed the boy and pulled him as close as she could.
“You saved my daughter’s life. I will be in your debit forever.”
“I only did what anyone should have done.”
“No my boy, what you did was nothing short of a miracle.”
Findarin could no longer maintain eye contact with the Queen. The face she was making hurt him for some reason. The face of motherly love. He shifted his gaze to the princess. She seemed to have fallen asleep already. Findarin smiled to himself unsure of what the princess had to be so tired about. He reached out to her and saw how tiny her hands were. Even as young as he was, one of his fingers seemed massive next to hers.
Unable to know why he did it, he pushed his finger into Anastasia's hand. As soon as his fingertip reached her palm, she gripped onto him tightly. The strength she grabbed shocked Findarin. The smile on his face grew wider. The queen was just taking in the sight of this boy marveling at the miracle of life.
“You are her savior Findarin. You two are now connected in a way very few people ever are. She will need you in the coming years. Can I count on you to always watch out for her and to keep her safe?”
Findarin looked to the Queen as she spoke to him. Trying his best to meet her powerful gaze. He turned back down to the princess.
“With my life, my Queen.”