Crowns and Torches

The dark corridors and intersections flew past her as she ran, making her way directly towards the nursery. The night was steadily setting in and the windows barely had any light coming through them, apart from the occasional glimmer of the fires raging outside. The palace of grey stone had never seemed so haunting. Step after step, the Queen got nearer to the nursery, and among the steady sounds of her feet hitting the smooth stone surface of the floor she could hear the increasing yells of the revolutionaries getting closer by every moment that passed.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she made it to the nursery door. Quickly looking around her, and making sure nobody was near, she opened the lock and gently pushed the heavy door of darkened spruce open. The old hinges let out a violent squeaking sound, as she entered the nursery.

To her relief, there was nobody there, and her son was calmly sleeping in his crib. The queen took a deep breath and one happy glimpse of that small creature. Prince Elijah, named after his late father, that beautiful creation of her own blood. The small baby boy was such a beautiful sight, that she could barely take her eyes off of him. Yet her daydreaming was cut short by the nearing screams, swearing death to her name. Anna gently took her baby son to her arms and started making her way to the hidden exit not too far from the nursery.

As she stepped back into the corridor, she could see the flames of torches dancing on the walls, the revolutionaries had nearly caught her, and had blocked her way to the hidden exit. The only way out was now through the main gate, and she knew that. She made a run for it, carrying young Elijah in her arms as she did. The shaking and loud noises woke up the boy, who started crying, the sound of which echoed in the corridors.

They made it to the gate. She tried to run down the steps, but lost her balance and fell, sending young Elijah flying into the air. When she got up, she was relieved to hear the young boy still crying, yet shocked by what she saw as she got her eyes off the ground. One of the revolutionaries had snatched the baby out of the air into his arms.

The handsome young man stood over her, smiling, as he looked her straight into her eyes. Elijah’s crying was the only thing breaking silence. The man holding her son said four words, loud and clear, “Death to the Queen”, as in one swift movement he snapped the baby’s neck.

Her heart shattered, as complete silence fell over the war-torn city. Anna could hardly breathe. She collapsed on the ground, sharp pieces of gravel piercing the skin of her knees. She was forced to watch as the man dropped her son, forced to witness as the lifeless corpse of that innocent creature, less than two summers old, hit the gravel-covered courtyard ground.

Still devastated from shock, her eyes fixed on that lifeless corpse, Anna offered no fear and no anger to the man now approaching her with his drawn-out sword.