*Before….Gracia
Valhalla…
Named after the home of some of the lost gods or such.
The Capitol city of the High King and it’s built in these huge levels with like a star or a sun at the bottom and then it rises in huge, huge tiers and adorned with these fancy buildings all smooth and lit up and there’s the glitter of so much light and so much glass.
It looked like a fancy gigantic cake.
I…it…was headed for the palace…the castle called Whitehall…and I barely got a look besides it being huge almost a small city with towers and tall buildings all of its own before I crashed into a fancy garden with flowers and trees that looked decorative and in the end a gazebo of fine wood.
The soldiers came running with fancy spears and some with swords and some with crossbows and I remember seeing a man with a very nice uniform on like the others but with the best embroidery I’ve ever seen and he loomed over me with a dagger at the ready.
“Who are you girl and what sorcery be this!?”
“Gracia…Princess Gracia Lyonnes…my father…my…The Lion has fallen…”
It’s all I could get out.
This man his expression changed to shock then concern and things faded to black as I hear him yelling though he seems far away.
“Get the knight captain! Fetch a healer!”
And that was how I'm here, crying...so very far from home.
*And Now…
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This story is 258 words long.
