Blackheart ©

Prologue

           I remember that day well. The day of my brother's death. The day was good and peaceful at first. I remember walking outside to smell the gardens of vegetables, the groves of fruits, and the rows of flowers.

            The sun warmed my face. And...for one moment, I felt the sun's rays hugging me. When I opened my eyelids, I saw my lady in waiting Elsie.

            Her long brown colored curls bouncing about as she curtsied and said, "Princess Iona, the King and Queen would like a word with you." I remembered thinking it strange. My mother and father never had to have a private word with me. In fact the only people that they would have private words with was the council's that served under my father's command. Each council was the leader of a clan, and each clan were filled with family members that were under the same surname.

            The clans that served under my father were so loyal to us. They proved it time and time again by having their sons become my father's knights. I practically grew up surrounded by knights as I would sometimes hide and watch them practice. How they would always joust with dummies and slash their swords against the trees and willows to practice their fighting tactics.

            I used to shiver when I heard the clanging of sword against sword, as they practiced with each other. I always feared that the knights would be harmed by their own brothers' sword. They never were harmed though.

            It amazed me even more that my brother, Prince Andrew would lead these young men. My calm, older brother, who would never argue, nor fuss, or even throw a tantrum of any kind. My gentle brother...a knight?

            It was his duty though. As a prince and heir to the throne of Scotland, it was his duty to fight along his fellow knights. Just as my father has done before him.

            My mother would always get teary when she saw Andrew go off with his knights to another battle. I would always have to reassure her that he would come home safe as he has always done.

            To prove my point, my brother always did come back alive with his men intact. The townspeople always said that Prince Andrew and his knights were strong and undefeated.

            Every time that the knights returned my father would always tell me, "One day, you will have a whole batch of knights that you can choose to marry". I would always grimace at the thought. However, my brother has his duty and I have mine. My duty is to marry a man that has land or wealth, valor, and has prestige. Like a prince, duke, or knight.

At least my mother was always there to remind me that I did have a choice. My mother—the beautiful Queen Shannon. Her hair red like fire, and her eyes blue as the skies.

              The story of her and my father is very legendary and unique. Queen Shannon wasn't born in royalty or prestige. She was a peasant girl that lived in Ireland.

            My father fell in love with her at first sight, and she with him. Even though some of the clans thought of their love as unwise, my father married her anyway. Two people that were from different worlds. A Scottish King and an Irish peasant girl married.

            My brother looked exactly like my father. They both have the same broad shoulders, and hair and eyes the color of chestnuts. King Alec and Prince Andrew were always called handsome.

            I was a little bit of a different story. I don't look like my father or my mother. Instead, I looked like I didn't belong.

            When I was born, there was speculation of whether or not I was a part of the Scotland royal family. My hair and eyes are black like a ravens. I would always hear the servants of the castle say things like, "Her eyes look so empty", "she's certainly striking", or "is she actually a royal?"