1 A Lonely Moon

The imperial palace was burning.

Fiery tendrils licked the stone walls, consuming everything in it's wake. Scorching red and orange light illuminated the grounds, revealing slaughtered bodies of the people that once lived there, and those who were cut down as they ran in panic.

Not all the inhabitants had escaped after the flames were lit, the lives the raging fire spared, were soon taken by the foreign soldiers that littered the courtyard, leaving heaps of dead in their trail.

Nearly all the main guards laid about the palace grounds, their bodies laced with deep wounds as they swam in puddles of blood.

About a dozen of those left alive were renowned members of the kings-guard and they held their own against the Ganaian soldiers, viciously throwing blow after blow, refusing to give up.

I watched these men fight in dazed curiosity, my empty Azul eyes that lazily observed the gory battle, flicked from one opponent to the other, as I wondered...

'Just why are they still fighting?'

Armour met armour, and blade met flesh in what would inevitably be the last battle for these men. They were the final line between the Ganaian's and the west palace, the only place that hadn't been riddled by the chaotic clash.

A haven which protected the last member of the imperial family.

But if the kings-guard were to be honest with themselves, then they all knew the crown prince would also die.

Despite being a final line of defense, the west palace had unfortunately been quartered off by the enemy, with every single one of it's exits blocked. Even the secret ones that were only know to distinguished figures, had been sealed off by the invaders.

It was right to say that the surviving royal was just as safe as an exotic sheep seeking refuge in a gilded abattoir, as long as he remained in the west palace.

Not that he could escape anyways.

So the awful truth was left unchanged.

There was nothing more to fight for, the prosperous rule of house Augustus, the monarchs of Duslan was over.

And even then, the kings-guard were not done fighting. I watched as the dozen of them left bled for our defeated family, falling one after another, yet refusing to surrender.

To these men, death was far more honorable than desertion or captivity.

Among those who were cut down, my bleeding body laid in a heap. I remained still, my breath uneven as I quietly watched the home I'd lived in for so many years burn down.

Different sounds tore through the midnight sky, the battle cries of warriors, the shrieking screams of the burning, and the dying groans of the slaughtered, each in its own gruesome rhythm matched the roar of the flames...

Resounding, shrill and terrible.

'How pitiful.'

I thought, my eyes meeting that of a boy no older than eight summers.

He laid in the large marble fountain in the garden yard, the beautiful fount held three more bodies besides the child's, and its water ran red with their blood, sprinkling high then cascading back down in it's usual majesty.

What made the little boy different from the others however, were his vacant eyes that stared back at me hauntingly, eyes which rested on a head that was connected to his shoulders by nothing more than a lump of flesh.

There really was nothing left to fight for.

Limp beside me, with fear clearly etched on her face was Vilda, my maid and my dear friend. We laid together in a pool of our blood, her throat was slit open from ear to ear and our fingers were tightly entwined.

She had died desperately clinging to me, I did not have the heart to let her go.

Moments earlier, both of us struggled out of the burning east palace through a secret exit. But as fate would have it, we found ourselves in the main courtyard which was already a chaotic battlefield.

Without a second to catch our breath, a Ganaian soldier charged at us, swinging his blade madly. I stood paralyzed, watching the bloodied sword that closed in on me, the soldier raised it with both hands, then swung in a swift motion that would have left me decapitated.

However a kings-guard parried his attack in our defence, disarming him in a flurry of blows, then driving his much larger sword through our assailants chest.

Without wasting another moment Vilda gripped my hand, and together we both fled.

Only to be met by several other Ganaian's as we rounded a hedge of flowers. A piercing scream resounded into the tumultuous night as a Pessian sabre slashed across Vilda's neck, she spun around from the momentum, her blood splashing onto my horrified face as she fell forward.

The ear-splitting scream went silent as the warrior turned on me, driving the length of his blade through my stomach with effortless precision.

My frightened gasp was choked out by a rush of warm liquid in my throat as blood gushed from my mouth.

Nursing a vacant expression, the soldier twisted the blade in my stomach then wrenched it out, emptying my bowels on the cobbled ground.

It was only then I realized that I'd been the one screaming.

Pain had never felt so colourful.

Wilfort, Ummet, Borynt and Thirynt, the four great duchies of Duslan, were each charged with the duty of protecting the east, west, south and north of the once prosperous Kingdom.

And one by one, each of these territories had fallen.

In a precise formation, the Ganaian armies and soldiers of the red company marched through Duslan, enforcing their will, reaving and slaughtering it's inhabitants that opposed them.

They moved in terrifying accuracy, having the advantage in every battle, these enemies cut through the kingdoms defenses at all it's weak-points.

By the time Duslan's ruler discovered the trail of betrayal within his court, it was far too late. The war had since turned against us, before the traitors were revealed.

And what great personalities they were.

Highlords, naval commanders, generals and members of the privy court, all of these men were led by a single motive and two powerful leaders...

Nasir Hahmed Aveenlaziz the sultan of Ganaia, and Caspian Greyhorn master of the Red company.

One by one the remaining valiant kings-guard were cut down before my eyes, their crimson blood polished the expansive courtyard in a lustrous sheen.

The cackling flames weaved and danced on the once boisterous corridors and lavish parapets of the imperial palace, sending an offering of fire and smoke to the heavy clouds that hung overhead.

The feel of the cold wind against my skin, and sharp pains that earlier raked my body, slowly began to subside.

I could only hold on to my senses because of the intense throbbing in my stomach, caused by the open gash that revealed my entrails and kept my weary eyes open.

Holding fast unto Vilda's stiff hand, I watched the billows of smoke as they rose from the fires, violently gliding towards the lone crescent moon that occupied the cloudy skies.

While I admired the moon's pale beauty, a Ganaian warrior walked up to me, his body was marred with cuts, with a bloodstained long sabre swinging freely in his hand.

The warrior stopped several paces from where I laid by Vilda's warm corpse, he cast a long glance at us shaking his head pitifully at the sight of the wound I spotted. Then all at once he readied himself to strike, prepared to grant me a faster death.

"Hold."

Came a booming order which stopped the him in his tracks.

I groaned, casting a fatigued look at the man who'd given the order.

Although my vision blurred badly, I could still tell who's voice it was, it was one that belonged to none other than Duslan's self proclaimed liberator, Caspian Greyhorn himself.

"We meet again princess"

he said looming over me.

Lord Caspian...I remembered the man all too well.

Once he had been no more than a common knight, one who by dutiful service was granted nobility as well as a fief to his name, and by it he was given numerous opportunities.

But unlike many members of the nobility, he came to the palace on end with pleas for the common people, and complaints against the high aristocracy.

As expected, my uncle turned him away, untill it was discovered that he was a member of the royal family, he was uncle's very own bastard.

It's surprising to think that it all happened merely three years ago, I smiled painfully as I watched him.

Now, it all felt like a lifetime had passed.

Somehow Caspian had managed to flee Duslan after his origins were revealed, narrowly escaping the many attempts on his life, he disappeared without trace, and was all too quickly forgotten.

But when he did return, he was no longer the powerless knight he'd been, the king's bastard returned a conqueror.

I used to wonder what would have happened If only my uncle had accepted his proposals then, if he'd listened to his complaints, could all this bloodshed have been avoided?

"Y-you kept your word, you've k-killed them all...haven't you?"

I said with much effort, unable to focus my eyes on his looming figure.

"Not really." He answered,

"There's still the coward in the west palace, I plan to burn him alive along with it,"

"Hah!" I wheezed,

"I guess he do...does deserve that,"

I spat out the warm clump of blood that had been stuck in my throat.

"Everyone I've ever killed deserved death," Caspian affirmed.

"Lies" I chuckled bitterly, rage rising in what was left of my stomach and Vilda's limp hand slipping through my fingers.

"Did the inno-innocents w-who got caught up in your campaign...hah...deserve death? Did the families who...who fell at the hah..haands of your men de..serve to die? Did my family truly?"

I questioned, my eyes welling up with tears as I remembered the numerous corpses that filled the palace, the bodies of the servants and guards that we'd passed, the dead children that I'd seen more times than I could count, and Vilda, my dear Vilda who'd died in my arms... How dare he say that they deserved death, how dare he.

My eyes burned with anger as tears streamed down my face, the war had gone on for a year with so many innocents killed during that time, all because of him.

Forcing myself to look at him, the flaming light illuminated the grounds so I could see him a bit clearly despite my reclining vision.

It was then I understood why he was called the 'Hellhound of Rhesia'.

Caspian looked just like a creature that had crawled out of the lowest depths of hell.

"You call them family still?" he questioned just as coldly.

"Well, your family's crime of tyranny went unchecked for decades, innocent people died then and the king had many chances to end it, but he never did..."

I felt a thud on the ground as he knelt in front of me, followed by his rough fingers which wrapped around my chin and harshly lifted my head.

"Your whole life they treated you worse than a fool, yet you regard them as family even now. You are as pathetic as you are foolish."

He spat the words in my face, then pushed my head away and stood.

I wanted to protest against his words, but I didn't have the strength to, or the will.

The tranny of house Augustus.

But were we truly tyrants?

Those who supported the rebellion claimed that the complacency of the royals was what brewed all this death, only a purge could save the kingdom from their corruption...our corruption.

"I assure you Princess, not a single royal will be spared."

My eyes stung all the more and tears clouded my vision.

"Why...why me!" I cried.

"What wrong did I ever do?"

The question came out with all the pain I had bottled up inside for years. I never wronged anyone, I quietly spent thirty four years of my life locked away, abandoned in the palace, I never lived like royalty, neither did I posses the powers that came with being one.

So why!

Just why did I have to die alongside the family who only felt hatred towards me.

"You should never have been born an Augustus. It is your own blood that condemns you." Came his cruel response.

Giving an order to the Ganaian warrior, he looked at me for the final time, then turned around and dissapeared towards the fiery chaos.

The warrior raised his blade a second time, and a resigned tear fell from my eyes.

As the razor edge of the expertly carved sabre tore into the skin of my neck, I saw the starless night sky one last time and wondered.

'Was the moon always so lonely.'