She ran as fast as she could, her little pink dress flapping in the wind. A young boy dressed in formal clothes chased her through the rows of bushes, around the fountain, weaving around the trees, laughing, always laughing, and the birds singing their happy tunes, the fragrance of the flowers a sweet scent. They played hide and seek, tag, they played with a ball, until their clothes were covered in dirt, maids coming out to scold them on getting their fine clothes dirty before dinner. She smiled, she felt happy, happy enough to kiss the boy on the cheek, laughing as he blushed crimson.


Fire, it was hot, so hot. She moved as fast as she could, grown, no longer a girl in a pink dress having fun but a lady in black running for her life, the boy, no, the man limping just behind her clutching his side, blood seeping through his guardsman uniform. She turns back to help, but he yells at her. Scared, so very scared. Why her? Why now? Why him? He yelled again, screaming at her to go, to get away. She turns and runs, tears flowing down her cheeks as she soon hears a clash of metal, shouts of triumph, and escapes into the night, the castle and courtyard behind him in flames. The smell of blood, of burning wood, of death choking her long after she is gone.



She stands in the courtyard for a third time, the once beautiful scenery turned to nothing but ash. The lady in black now a Queen, once again in a pink dress. Around her are servants, guards and maids. The courtyard was nothing but rubble, the plants burned, the stone thrown around. The fountain man reduced to pebbles and feet. She reaches down, a skeleton, dressed in an old torn soldiers uniform. She knelt, crying, the man long dead from protecting her. Crying, crying, the bitter taste of misery and rot filling her mouth. Crying, as the servants give the man a proper burial.