The monarchy has always held the coveted position of the blood. On the eve of the "name of holiday", the oldest royal gives their blood to honor the sweat and tears that go into their kingdom. The tradition slowly cedes from the populace's memories though after the death of the beloved queen and a rumbling question of why begins to fill the streets. Years pass, and the tradition falls further from grace. Dissatisfied nobles spread rumors about black magic infiltrating the family as the King signs a new marriage contract, bringing new blood into the castle. Through all this, the eighteen year old heir to the throne wonders about tradition even as the winds of change threaten to destroy everything that they love.
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If a story starts with once upon a time, a happily ever after seems an appropriate end. But if the story never ends, what happens to the beginning? Is a sacrifice worth making if no one can remember the point behind it?
Blood will beget blood, and memory will beget history. But history fades, and blood dries - and sometimes people won’t know what they have lost.
But that is his job, and why he remains. This story should not be repeated, and yet...
A salt shaker slips from the chef’s hands onto the stone floor. Cursing, he barks an order to the boy catching his breath by the table. The door pushes open to allow a server entrance, and she slips plates onto her tray with ease.
The dogs bay for an unknown reason, and the kennelmaster strikes the fence with a grunt. The howls echo through the yard, halting the practice of the guard.
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