Stories

First scene, first draft

As much as I would like it, this story is not about me at all. In fact, by the time this story would reach a reader, friend or foe, I am probably way beyond this world, and a few feet under the ground. This story is about 2 outlaws who had become friends, or more likely, co-dependent colleagues, on the run from a common enemy. My guess is that this enemy is the one who killed me, hopefully during a heroic act of some sort, on my behalf.  Me, I used to be a librarian – the most important of professions. Our heroes, on the other hand, were hired guns, ending up trying to kill the wrong person. And this is, as I mentioned before, their story.
The first of our heroes, a dark haired beauty whose name you cannot pronounce. Due to the dignity of a name, and the importance of one, I shall translate it for you. Her name is "The Moth", Or just Moth, if you know her well enough.  Our dear Moth was hired to kill a prince, to save a kingdom. She was very good at her job, and most people shivered at the mention of her name alone. Not our prince though. Trying to kill him would leave her with a scarred face and one left ear short. Not our other hero either, one of the only gingers left in the kingdom, a man so fierce no one has ever seen his face and survived, The Firefly. Due to sheer irony, or if you'd like, fate, our firefly was hired to kill the Moth, on the same day she was to kill the prince.
I wouldn't justify those events or pin it on irony, as the person who ordered both those hits was none other than me. You see, my brother, the crown prince, had no idea he had a younger sister, a librarian. He was very well protected, and feared throughout the land. Our father, the king, was about to put an end to his own life; again, not knowing he has a daughter. He loved to read, and was not at all afraid to tell me of his plans. He said he felt a connection to me, through the love of reading, a connection he never felt with his family. He said that his late wife was crazy, and his son – even more so. He said he has no strength left, not even for the sake of his own people, to try and stop him, and in his weakness and old age, he cannot stand to watch his son become king of these lands. Out of fear, the king was to end his life that day, and nothing could stop him. It's a good thing he chose to tell the librarian, otherwise this story never would have been written.
My plan was quite simple, and had a few possible outcomes, all of which were in my favor: the prince would die, and I would reveal myself as future queen, or the prince saved by the Firefly, and would be in debt to me.
On the day the deeds were to be done, I finally understood – not only was I wrong, I was probably never to play chess and win.