Episode 1: The Bloody Snow

It was midnight in November 12th, when the winter recklessly rushed down upon the kingdom.

Queen Lover was sitting in a horse cart, feeling the desperately freezing air embracing her body, burrying her new-born child under the cloak.

Her hands felt numb, and her thighs, where the kid had been laying for hours, were sore. But despite being deeply in pain and numbness, she hung onto it.

Outside, the noises of horses and snow storm screaming brushed against the thin woody walls.

“Oh, my poor, poor baby,” Lover said, tears running down her shaking cheeks, “I am sorry for bringing you into this, however I have no choice but to protect you. I know I am a terribe mother, since I brought you to this cruel world and let you suffer.. But please.. don’t lose hope..”

These words were more for herself than for him the child, because he had not yet grew enough consciousness to acknowledge the situation. He was lying deep inside his mother’s embrace and desperate warmth, sleeping like there was nothing more to care about than his little dreams.

“Yes.. just sleep, my baby.” A fainting smile appeared on Lover’s face as she looked down onto him. “And dream. About playing on the green corn field and dancing with the butterfly! The little toy your father had given you, when it made you cracked that little laughter of yours! Oh.. I would kill just to see that happiness again.”

After that, she could no longer hold it in. She closed her mouth while her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. Memories rushed into her mind as she tasted her own tears and tried to mute her own crying. One of her hands raised up, intending to touch the soft skin of the boy, but ultimately undaring to share the freeze to him.

Right at that moment, the horses tripped onto something- a rock or their own foots- and began collapsing one by one.

“Crackkk—“

The entire cart was dragged along and wobbled in one final desperate attempt to regain its balance, finally falling hard against the ground.

Queen Lover was thrown off— flying straight passed the broken woody wall— and screamed in agony, but she didn’t stop hanging onto her son.

Her body slid against the solid surface for ten seconds, leaving a trail of her own blood along the narrowed way and her finger nails scattered across the snow.

Then, she was only stopped crashing into the wood fences.

She laid there, crying and screaming in unending pain, as snowfalls started swallowing her whole.

“It hurts! It hurts!! Please somebody.. please end my suffering!! I don’t want to die!”

Yet, she still protected the child deep in her arms, who had started crying the moment he woke up from all the noises and frictions.

Ten feets away from them, the horse cart laid defeated on pale snow, still sounds of wheels spinning and horses whimpering faintly echoing like the haunted shadows.

Lover’s crying grew quieter and quieter, replaced by the sounds of snow flakes scratching on old woods.. and a small, almost completely silent steps approaching.

Three men, all in thick winter cloaks, walked slowly onto the bridge, following the bloody trail of Queen Lover, her screaming, and the crying of her child.

Their hands were holding machetes, readying to finish the job.

Just then, a faintly ‘swooshh’ splitted the freezing air in half; snowflakes flied wildly; hitting one of the men in a clean bite.

More blood poured out.

It shot accross the side of the bridge, mixing with the blood of Queen Lover.

The other two were immediately alarmed, rising their machetes high in a defensive position.

It was no help.

‘Swhooshhhh-! Swhooshhh!’

The remaining men collapsed, painting their ground a mix of red and white, whispering something about mother and responsibility.

Now the world again fell into complete silence besides the agonized groaning of winter and the kingdom.

“No! No! No!”

A figure rushed out from the other side of the bridge, hand holding a bow, running towards Lover with extreme urgency.

“NO!”

He screamed aloud, collapsing besides her like a cut tree.

He came too late.

She was gone, choking on her own blood.

The figure sat there motionless for ten minutes, staring down at the dead body of Queen Lover of Thorne. He was nothing more but a soldier who had broke his royal vow.

Just as he reached for the last arrow in his quiver, attempting to give himself a break of his own sorrow, he saw the boy.

Round and blue eyes, looking at him with pure curiosity, while his little hands reached out trying to grab the bow on the man’s hand. The moment his fingers wrapped around the string, he burst out a small giggle.

The soldier cried.

Such ugly and cowardly cries of a man who had fought through countless wars.

Then, slowly and gently, he held the boy up by his waist, covering him deep in his own cloak and began walking back as the kid started crying again, trying to call for his mother.

Cries filled up the night. One from an adult, one from a child, and one from the winter itself roaming upon everything.

And that was how the capital claimed Robert.

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