The Runaway Princess (Editing)

Prologue

Dear Diary,

        Today was a woeful day. My brother caught the plague less than a week ago; as expected, his death came soon and swift. It was almost as if I could see the disease grow, expand, gleefully take over the body my brother called his own. The only thing "it" left alone was his eyes. His eyes would never plead, never cry, but would hold the same spark of hope they always had. I think that's what killed my father the most. It killed me the most, too, but for other reasons.

        Those eyes were supposed to grow old and wrinkle and smile under the crown. Only now, those eyes are dead. The gleam left them at dawn, I believe. The shine left those brown- no, copper eyes while he was staring right at me. Now there are only dull, wooden eyes which cannot grow old and wrinkle and smile under the crown. Now there is no brother, and I think that's what killed everyone.

        Now, you fancy me to be insane. Perhaps I am. Perhaps the only reason I'm sad my brother is gone is because my family put all the insanity on him. It didn't matter that we were born the same day, or that I had the appearance of a noble while he looked average. The only thing that mattered was he was my father's only son, so he would inherit the throne, so the insanity belonged to him and nobody else. The war was not mine; the war was his. The barbarians were not mine; the barbarians were his. While I was busy attending balls, he was learning the roads and maps and battles. While I was making friends, he was already learning who his enemies are. While I watched those eyes go colorless, the brightness had already faded.

I change my mind. That's what killed me the most- while I was holding on, he had let go. And when he let go, I recieved the one thing I had never wanted.

The kingdom.