Protagonist POV
Stories usually begin with "Once upon a time, there lived a girl," and end with a grand ball celebrating her victory.
Not mine.
Mine begins with a ball.
My birthday ball.
My name is Sheila Marylyn Von-Horus, and today is my nineteenth birthday. Honestly, it feels amazing. Father bought me a beautiful dress and invited nearly the entire kingdom to celebrate with me.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a party to attend.
End of POV
Sheila walked toward the ballroom while a flock of maids hurried around her, fussing over every detail of her appearance. They adjusted her hair, smoothed her gown, and made sure everything was perfect as she approached the grand hall.
When they reached the massive doors, the maids stepped back and bowed. Moments later, the announcer's voice echoed through the room.
"Presenting Her Royal Highness, Princess Sheila Marylyn Von-Horus!"
The doors swung open.
The princess stepped into the light, her golden gown shimmering beneath the chandeliers. Every eye in the hall turned toward her.
Her strapless ball gown sparkled with embroidered gemstones, while elegant gloves covered her arms. Golden chains adorned her long brown hair, which was secured with crystal pins that caught the light with every movement.
Tonight, she was the star of the kingdom.
As she descended the staircase, her gaze caught on an unfamiliar man standing among the guests.
He looked distinctly foreign.
His dark clothing contrasted sharply with the colorful attire around him, and his long hair fell nearly to his waist. One hand rested casually on the hilt of his sword while the other brushed through his hair.
Something in his light brown eyes unsettled her.
Danger.
The feeling lasted only a moment.
She looked away and continued down the stairs.
Nothing was going to ruin her birthday.
At the foot of the staircase, her father waited with a warm smile.
He extended a hand, and she placed hers in it.
"You look beautiful, dear," he said.
He led her to the center of the ballroom before turning to face the crowd.
"As is tradition," he announced, "I shall grant the honor of the first dance to whichever gentleman the celebrant chooses."
The guests erupted into murmurs of excitement.
The king looked at Sheila and gave her an encouraging nod.
She stepped forward and scanned the crowd.
The spotlight followed her gaze as she examined face after face, searching for someone who stood out.
No one did.
Then she saw him.
The stranger.
Their eyes met once more.
For a moment, she forgot to look away.
The spotlight lingered on him.
The king laughed heartily and gestured for the young man to approach.
The stranger offered no resistance. He stepped through the crowd and joined them at the center of the hall.
The king placed Sheila's hand into his.
"Enjoy yourselves," he said before signaling the musicians.
The orchestra began to play.
The pair glided across the ballroom floor.
"You're pretty good," Sheila said, attempting to start a conversation.
The man raised an eyebrow.
"'Pretty good' falls below my standards."
Sheila laughed.
"And what is the name of this man who claims to be better than good?"
"You'll learn it in time," he replied.
Before she could answer, the sound of frantic footsteps echoed from outside.
The ballroom doors burst open.
A guard stumbled inside.
"We're under attack!" he shouted.
The music stopped instantly.
Panic swept through the hall.
Suddenly, the stranger seized Sheila's arm and drew his sword.
"Plunder!" he roared.
Armed soldiers poured through every entrance.
Screams erupted throughout the ballroom.
Guests scattered in terror.
Sheila reached for his sword, but he struck her across the head with the hilt.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
Sheila POV
When I opened my eyes, I was lying on the cold ballroom floor.
For a moment, I couldn't remember what had happened.
Then I saw the blood.
It was everywhere.
The grand ballroom had become a slaughterhouse.
Bodies littered the floor. The surviving men fought desperately, only to be cut down one after another. Women screamed as they were dragged away by the invaders.
My head pounded.
I tried to stand.
Then I saw Father.
He was pushing through the chaos toward me.
Relief flooded my chest.
He dropped to his knees beside me and gently cradled my head.
"It's alright," he began.
A blade burst through his chest.
Time stopped.
I stared in horror.
Father looked down at the sword protruding from his body.
Then he looked back at me.
I screamed.
The soldier ripped the weapon free, and my father collapsed.
"No!"
Hands grabbed my hair.
I fought and kicked, but they dragged me across the floor as if I weighed nothing.
Father fell to his knees.
Even as life left his eyes, he kept looking at me.
"No! No! No! NO!"
My screams echoed through the ruined ballroom.
The invaders hauled me outside and threw me into a wagon already filled with my sisters.
The door slammed shut behind me.
Darkness swallowed us.
And for the first time in my life, I was truly afraid.