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Small part of a larger story in "Tintagel"
Eremond sat on on his throne. Wyborn stood off to the side, his trusted nephew keeping most away from the grieving King. Sabriel, the heir was kidnapped, Saraisen was dead or also kidnapped but probably dead. Tintagel had reacted against him. Mabh his queen was dead. All he had left was his nephew.
The honor guard had been stripped of all the kin, vampires, those who had fled were probably making their way back to their tribes, there were those who'd prostrated themselves declaring their loyalty and those had been led away to the lower dungeons. Eremond knew that he was wrong to mistrust their loyalty but all he could think of was the Vampire Atli standing over Saraisen's bleeding body the day Tintagel had been attacked by the Fay. He wanted nothing more than to gather his wife and girls into his arms but he could not have foreseen this. No one could have.
The Elves from the Knesset kingdom had arrived this morning, among them his daughter's betrothed Prince Dycic. Eremond had not found the strength to yet see them and yet he knew soon he must. They had not pressed him although the servants had whispered the Prince Dycic was in a state of shock.
The young prince and Sabriel unlike most betrothals had met and fallen in love. Not many betrothals looked forward to their wedding day but Dycic and Sabriel looked forward to the day when they would be together.
Wyborn sitting close to the King had thoughts that tended towards another direction entirely. He'd hoped Saraisen was dead, after all she alone would be believed if she pointed him out as a traitor. He'd fled the castle that day after giving her a mortal blow, but he'd never in his life expected the Castle of Tintagel to come alive like it had. No one had seen what he'd done except for that cursed Vampire Atli. And now he looked like the traitor. He wondered what had become of Aiquiel the seeress for inwardly he really wanted to see the look on her face at the false prophecy she'd given.
He was so close to the throne however, he couldn't wait to ascend the steps and take a bride. Maybe one of the Knesset daughters. They just had to endure this fool Dycic for just a bit longer. Protocol demanded it. Not that he could blame Dycic for being angry. Sabriel would have made a fine queen, the kind of soul that most people loved and a willingness to be a servant of the people. She was simply in the way of greater things.
The court was a silent despairing room filled with the rage of the King. An enemy had hit them but who exactly was the enemy?
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2016274