I smiled as I walked down the grand stairs to where Henrietta and Adrienne stood waiting. My hand rested on the hilt of a borrowed sword.

King Thomas appeared not long after me, he too standing proudly, ceremonial crown atop his head, even though we'd be riding for almost a full day.

The Queen kissed her husband's cheek, then presented her hand for me to kiss, which I did so willingly, now settling into my boots as the crown prince again. Then I had to stand whilst Henrietta kissed my cheek, though she barely brushed it.

Matching Thomas's step, I walked across the courtyard to Saffron, who had been groomed thoroughly and chuffed happily at me. My boots crunched in the snow. The king and I mounted in synchronisation as his entourage of about twenty men rounded the corner of the courtyard.

"Shall we go and reclaim your throne, son?" King Thomas smirked.

I grinned back at him.

We rode out the snow quickly, crossing into blue skied fields in no time. The villagers lined up to watch us pass in some places; they cheered for me. The inn we stopped at was decorated with bunting and fine tablecloths. They gave us good food, fish, wine ale.

By the time dusk started to fall we had crossed the border and walked on home soil.

A messenger met us on the road with news that my brother had surrendered, Thomas's entourage cheered. The king nodded at me proudly. It was very very strange, to think that this was my country we'd invaded. The whole party dismounted and set up a little table, the messenger produced champagne and every man drank.

"Gentlemen." The king's voice boomed across the woodland. "Please charge your glasses as I raise a toast to my future son-in-law, Gavrila."

I leaned back awkwardly against a tree, intrigued as to what he had to say about me.

"When Gavrila tumbled into the palace, begging for mercy from conspirators to his throne, I thought the gods had sent me a burden, something to test my patience."

Hang on a second. When I came in begging for mercy?

I went to move forward but a guard materialsed next to me, his hand a gentle vice on my elbow.

"Instead, that night I gained an heir." Thomas smiled warmly, now his smile only ignited the flames of anger in my stomach. "Gavrila. You remind us all of my son Price Edward, may he rest in peace. He was brave, like you, and good. But you have something he did not. Peace. The drive to end conflict and unite nations. I have given you my daughter's hand, I have given you my ear and my army. Do me proud, Prince Gavrila."

Don't defy me. Is what those words really meant. I have a knife at your throat. I won't hesitate to slice it.

"Gentlemen, please join me in toasting the Fil des Yllers et Berelyia."

Their shouts of agreement would turn to shouts of glee at my execution if their king so wished it.

The break seemed to be over once the king had finished speaking, and everyone began to mount again. This time, the ride did not feel so long, and there was a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach as we passed the stone denoting the borders of Beltrain. I had been born in this city, I had taken my first steps in this city, I had lived in this city for almost all my life. But I was a foreigner. As our entourage rode steadily down the main road to the palace, passing the opera house on our way, I was not the heir to Beltrain and Ilragorn anymore, I was a foreign prince, invading for no better reason than that it was the King's desire. Even then I wasn't doing any of the work myself; an army had taken it for us, now we had to sit prettily. In all honesty I could not feel further from where I had been this morning, no longer delighted at returning home, now just repulsed by my soil. How could I look mother in the eye?

In the darkness, we dismounted on the courtyard where I had flown a kite many years since. There was no time to look back as King Thomas led us to the grand entrance. We never used the grand entrance, didn't he know that? We certainly wouldn't use it when it had Baracosian flags over the archway.

His soldiers opened the doors. The almighty marble entrance hall was illuminated as it always had been. My heart ached as our boots clinked on the floors.

With a flick of his wrist, King Thomas had the mighty door to the ballroom opened. It was crowded, like there had been a ball going on, except the nobles, my nobles, were in their nightclothes. They looked at me not with pride but with terror. I bit my tongue, forcing myself to stay quietly behind my new king, when my heart ached to greet my people.

The chandeliers were only half lit and an ominous glow was thrown over the whole room, especially the raised platform, where the thrones stood, empty and waiting. But movement from beside them caught my eye, as we pressed ever forward through the crowd, the king's entourage slowly dispersing among my shivering people.

"Rili!" Fana shouted. Where was he? I could barely see anyone's face clearly.

"Ganechka!" That was mother? Where was she?

As the king and I mounted the steps to the raised platform, I realised in horror that my family were the moving things in the darkness behind the thrones. They were being held back by two soldiers, Baracosian helmets covering their faces.

There was the gentlest touch on my elbow, it was the king. Stay in line. His fingertips communicated.

Finally he stopped. He sat down on the throne. My father's throne.

"Good evening." Thomas's voice rang out across the ballroom, the candles flickering unpleasantly.

Mother was just there, my wronged brother was just there. I could go to them, apologise to them.

No.

Soldiers steel, Gavrila, what would Fenester say?

"For too long, our great countries have been at each other's throats, with no end in sight. Well finally, my children, finally, I bring you peace. It could not have happened without your rejected son, who you all shunned after his weak father's death." The King's words dripped like acid. I wanted to oppose them, but how could I really? All I had to go on was Tristan's letter and after everything that had happened, how trustworthy was that. "Now our countries will be united, with your son, Gavrila on the throne in unity with our daughter, Henrietta." The king smiled proudly. "But, to achieve this peace, there must be sacrifice." Thomas boomed across the ballroom, the vibrations hitting me in the gut.

Fana and mother were dragged out to the front of the stage. They shouted my name and that was when I decided to sod it, sod the crown. Family was more important. I lurched forward, mother's cry propelling me, only to be caught by both shoulders and fallen to my knees. Huge, strong arms suffocated my body.

"Let me go!" I hissed, before the soldier's hand clamped over my mouth and turned me away from the crowd. I squeezed my eyes shut anyway.

"Colonel Fenester, Colonel Kent, if you would?" The king boomed again.

Fenester was in on it. Tristan's letter had said. It was Kent. All along Lord Kent was pulling the strings.

That was why King Thomas had disregarded my warning about Tristan's letter. That was why they'd killed him. Because the Kents plan was to ally with Baracosia after all.

"Gavrila!" Fana called, he was crying. I knew the look in his eyes when he cried like that. That was the time when the only cure was to race him down the herb garden and back and hide by the roots of the oak tree with a plentiful supply of sugared fruits. "Rili please!" Fana shouted again, before the unmistakable slice of knives through flesh cut both him and mother off. Permenantly.