Okay, so this is 10 years after the prologue of my story. My characters are between the ages of 16-18.
(once again: please, please leave a comment!!)
Jonathan hated being confined within the grounds of the castle, but the king had commanded it and so it would be. No one dared disobey his rule, for all he had to do was look in a person's eyes and mutter a string of magical words and they were dead.
He remembered what the king had told him, that he saw a potential for magic in him. This was years ago, but still, he remembered it. The king had tried to train him in the evil arts, the Dark Craft, but had failed miserably. Jon had a talent for magic, but what the king didn't know was that it was for the Light. All the king knew was that Jon was a threat and should be confined to some extent. If his mother hadn't pleaded to keep him alive, and even let him be allowed to roam the castle and its grounds, he would be dead. The king was also afraid that Jon would find someone to train the magic that Jon held in his core. If that happened, he'd be doomed, Jon thought. I would go up to him and take the throne from him in an instant. I'd die killing him if that's what I have to do.
Jon wandered restlessly through the halls, the stone of the castle walls keeping the heat of the summer out. He walked over to a window and looked out. In front of him were the Royal Gardens. They were beautiful; tended to by the Royal Gardeners who stayed at the castle for one reason-His Mother. His mother wasn't as strong as him and his sisters and had to hold onto whatever she could. Jon and his sister were one thing she clung to; the gardens were the other. There was almost any type of flower a person could dream of, from the common white daisy to the rare black rose.
One of the Gardeners was out there tending to the flowers right now. An older man who called himself Tom; he had snow white hair and piercing blue eyes. It was, he always said to Jon, love that made the garden grow. But love was scarce in times like these and was badly needed, so, Tom stayed for the Queen and the gardens.
Love is scarce alright; he thought wryly as two of the king’s guards came strolling down the walk snickering rudely. They saw Tom and started pointing and teasing the old man. The words drifted towards the window where Jon stood, watching.
“Caring for your wittle flowers again, are you old man?” Said one in a voice one would use with a small child.
“His precious flowers. It’s too bad they’re so delicate, isn’t it?” the other said and they both cracked up. Suddenly, they pushed the old man aside and started kicking them, their only thought to cause him some grief. Tom stared on in shock; he couldn’t do anything. They were the king’s guards; he could get killed for opposing them.
“By Helias, this has got to stop” Jon muttered to himself. Helias was the God of the Sun and of Justice. And Justice would be served. Jonathan jumped up onto the window ledge and hopped down to the ground. Luckily, he was on the first story of the castle and there was no drop. An angry fire burned in the prince’s golden eyes as he walked up to the guards.
“Halt” he commanded angrily, but the guards continued to ruin the flowers that the Royal Gardeners had taken so much time to care for.
“I said stop”
The guards looked at him with sneers on their faces. “And who are you to tell us what to do…little prince” one said mockingly.
Jon gave them a dangerous look. “You just said so yourself. I’m a prince, and I said stop”
“Great going, Jeb” the other guard said sarcastically.
“Well sorry, Brad” Jeb replied, just as sarcastically.
“Leave. Now.” Jonathan ordered. He stepped forward trying to look like he meant business, but how could he? He was only eighteen for Gods sake; he’d never been to war, but he knew how to wield a sword and shoot an arrow. That should count for something.
Jeb made a snorting noise. “Brat’s got attitude.”
But Brad was looking at the prince, suddenly nervous. “Come on, Jeb. This isn’t fun anymore. We should just leave. He could go whining to his mommy and she’d probably go to the king. We’d be in trouble.”
“You’re probably right. Let’s go” Jeb and Brad shuffled off, but not without a backwards glance at Jon. Their faces were filled with sneers of hatred. Jon gave them a hard look and watched them as they turned a corner and vanished from view.
When they were gone, he knelt beside the old man. “I’m sorry, Tom. They were very rude. They ruined the flowers you worked so hard to tend to.”
He looked at the section of the garden Jeb and Brad had ruined. The beauty had not been diminished-not fully anyways. The golden petals of one plant mingled with the red petals of another; there was some blue and even some green of the crushed leaves and stems. The air smelled fresh and sweet, the scent was a mix of the flowers and the earth.
He picked up a wilted flower and looked at it sadly.
“That’s okay, Prince Jonathan. They will grow once again. Its love that makes the garden grow and that’s all I can give it. Love and care. But thank you for being concerned. Not many people are willing to help an old man, these days…”
“It’s the least I could do” Jon said wryly. It was probably all he could do at most. The guards barely listened to him-the king’s guards at least. “The gardens are beautiful. It’s one of the things that keeps my mother from total depression. Ever since my father died, she’s taken whatever comfort she can from the gardens.”
Tom sighed. “Your father was a good man and an excellent king. May Aurora watch over him” he said. Aurora was the Moon Goddess. She watched over the souls of the departed and the night. Her magic grew stronger and weaker with the waxing and the waning of the moon. There was one night a month she was powerless, though. That’s when there is a new moon.
“You look just like him, except you have your mother’s eyes. He was a strong believer in the Tales, but you knew that didn’t you?” Tom continued.
Jon nodded. “But I don’t believe in them. It happened thousands of years ago. How do you know if there’s any truth to them anyways?”
“Every legend has a grain of truth” Tom said wisely. “That’s why I believe. I believe that we will be saved by those that ride dragons like we were thousands of years ago.”
Jon tried his hardest not to roll his eyes and succeeded. “Dragons don’t exist”
Tom ignored the comment, but looked at the prince sadly before continuing. “It is said they left the land without warning, but told a prophecy before doing so.” He wasn’t exactly talking to the prince anymore, but quoting from the Tales. His mind is wandering, Jon thought. I might as well stay and listen. I don’t have anything better to do.
“The prophecy went like this. If a time of darkness strikes again, four will arise, similarly marked. They will be of different races and status. They will be able to hear dragons and it is up to them to cleanse the land.”
Though Jonathan still doubted the old man, he glanced at the back of his right hand. Though he couldn’t see it-his hands were covered in black, fingerless gloves-he knew it was there. For as long as he could remember, he had had a weirdly shaped birthmark on the back of his right hand. It looked like a candle flame; the tip of it curling into a spiral off to the left. He wondered briefly if anyone else had the same mark as him, but quickly got rid of it. There was no time in this world for fanciful thoughts. It was a dangerous place and there was no room for dreaming about fairy tales.
Tom saw him glance towards his hand and cut his speech short. “Think about it, Prince Jonathan. Maybe your beliefs will change. You’ll see”
The old man got up and walked away, leaving the prince mystified.
~To be continued...~
(don't worry, I'm going to write more! Brandon is up next! btw, what did you think?)
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