The Bastard King

Ch. 1

Isabel

My heart pounded in my chest as I raced through the dimly lit corridors of Graelish Manor, the distant echoes of galloping hooves and ominous roars of approaching soldiers sending shivers down my spine. I clutched my little brother Edward's hand tightly, urgency urging us forward.

"Edward, hasten your steps!" My voice trembled as we reached the courtyard, where our eldest cousin huddled his children together. The encroaching army, mounted on horseback, surrounded them like shadows cast in the twilight.

"Come, children," implored cousin Kieran, a commanding presence in the midst of chaos. Beside him, my sister Maggie stood, cradling our little cousin Finnan, who clung to her with a desperate grip. We scurried to join them, the thundering hooves of the horses creating a tumultuous thunder around us. The soldiers, clad in ominous black, exchanged words in a foreign tongue—a language unfamiliar yet hauntingly recognizable.

It was the bastard army, an amalgamation of rebels, pirates, and turncoats who, bound by a decade-long hatred for the King and all things Valeria, now encircled us. The downfall of Ellsworth House had paved the way for the ascension of House Black.

"Lord Kieran of House Graelish!" a soldier's voice boomed above the tumult. "You and your household are hereby summoned by his majesty King Rowan Black of Solaris to the Crimson Citadel."

I cast a glance at my cousin, his posture transforming into one of resolve as he prepared to fulfill his duty. "Hidden and patient," he muttered to us, a departure from the strategies our fathers might have employed, but cunning nonetheless. With our protectors gone, this was a different world—one that demanded resilience in the face of an impending storm.

"I will come peacefully, but do not harm my family," he implored, his plea carrying the weight of both supplication and command. The soldier, stone-faced and unyielding, responded only with a disgruntled grumble before signaling his men to advance.

In an instant, we were torn apart, forcibly separated by the hands of imposing soldiers. Maggie and I found ourselves in the grip of these formidable figures, ushered away from the sanctuary of the manor grounds toward a waiting carriage. Panic surged as I called out for Edward and Finnan, the two young boys dragged in the opposite direction. Kieran, a stoic figure, observed without resistance, perhaps wisely avoiding a confrontation that could lead to the demise of us all.

The once tranquil manor now reverberated with the tumult of thundering hooves and shouted commands as the company executed its maneuvers. Thrown into the confines of a carriage, the doors sealed shut, the driver impatiently urging the horse forward with a tap of the reins against its flank. My gaze flitted toward the towering walls adorned with House Graelish's sigil, a sinking feeling enveloping me. I wondered if this would be the last glimpse of the estate—the sole haven where peace and happiness had ever graced our lives.

The carriage set into motion, its rhythmic swaying hinting at the speed of our journey, the steady beat of hooves creating a somber accompaniment. We were not merely passengers; we were captives under escort.

Across from me, Maggie sat in a state of sorrow, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her once-neat dark hair had come undone, strands cascading onto her rosy, tear-stained face. "Cry all you must... for now," I murmured softly, capturing her gaze as I spoke. "But once this carriage door opens, you mustn't shed a tear. Do not allow them the satisfaction of seeing you weep and branding you as weak." I straightened my posture, a silent testament to the dignity our mother had bequeathed me. Maggie, however, inherited the shorter end of that legacy, our father's impulsive and emotional nature coursing through her veins.

With a determined swipe, she wiped away the tears, sniffling as her gaze returned to the passing scenery beyond the window. "Where are they taking us?"

A lump formed in my throat, the possibilities already swirling in my mind, none of them boding well. "We are Graelish girls; they will not harm us," I replied, injecting a tone of reassurance. Strength was paramount, and I couldn't afford to reveal any fear to Maggie, lest she be overcome with panic.