And He Was

Usually, the castle would be bright, sunny, glowing, and the sun would warm the stone bricks, and people would be milling around making cheerful conversation. Today, however, was dark and gloomy. Clouds hid away the sun and a cold, ruthless wind screamed, whistled, and tumbled across the spires and balconies of the castle. The sky was mourning, even if the people weren't. Not a single flower was blooming, not a common w**d or delicate rose, as if proof of this occurrence, save the pile of bouquets in the middle. They were piled on top of a delicate, gold-trimmed glass coffin, where two people lay side-by-side. The King and Queen, faced expressionless and peaceful, but there was no one there. The death was not being mourned by any but one. A young boy, perhaps 10 or 11, was standing alone, almost blending in with the shadows, on an elaborate stone courtyard. The boy stood still, head lowered, as the rain soaked and ruined his expensive, fashionable black suit, pooling into polished leather shoes, and mixed with the tears dribbling down his face. Water dripped down his chin, green eyes closed and chestnut hair a sodden, tangled mess. At the words of a grey-haired butler, the young boy turned. "It's time to go, Prince Sebastian."