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"Sibusio!” the Swazi princess had run ahead now that they had escaped the wandering eyes of her father, the king, and other members of the delegation. Turning, she called her personal bodyguard once more and smiled. “I fancy a walk to the town today. Walk with me? I fear father may have a fit.” Although the maintained the serious, royal stance around other people, she was comfortable enough around the other to allow herself to be a young girl. From time to time.

After what seemed like days of being locked up in meetings and the like, Robert finally found a small freedom on a lovely afternoon. Enjoying the sights, he noticed a figure walking towards him, “Come to check out the view as well? This seems to be the most quiet part of the castle. I’ve come to quite a liking of it.”

A fraud. Robert Windsor was a fraud and the whole international community had a front row ticket to his undoing. He had heard the whispers grow louder and louder until they were screaming banshees in his ear, reminding him of his unclean blood and his new title- not king, but bastard. Robert’s heart felt like it had been thrown into the ocean and left to rot, and he knew it was only time until the complete unravelling began. There was one person he needed to see more than anyone else. One person he needed to talk to, to prepare, before things started turning dark. Isobel. He searched for her in all their usual places but found himself jogging towards the meadow, in hopes to catch a glimpse of her there. A sigh of relief left his lips as he saw her sitting by the grass, calm and peaceful. In turn, he felt like a storm, ready to unleash its horrors. “Isobel,” he said, his face unreadable. 

Her heart was beating at an ugly, unnatural pace and her mind was a fragile thing, replaying the lives she had saved and those she had not saved in the fire. Her body caught light burns, her dark and smooth skin now ugly and stained by the flames. Her arm had a large gash that she had gotten in the frenzy of the blaze, dark red blood making her wince in pain but not shudder in disgust. It was her mind that was burdened. Memories of the war in her country attacked her, screaming obscenities and aching for blood. She had not saved enough people, she thought to herself. She couldn’t breathe, the smoke had filled her lungs and her trauma was attacking her. She looked around but felt only lost, a war of panic and frenzy overwhelming her body. “Oh- Oh my gods,” she managed to say, falling to the ground in fear and pain.