Much to Jasmine's displeasure, Helen woke her up what seemed like minutes after she had closed her eyes. Jasmine groaned and pulled her covers up to block out the light as Helen opened the heavy woollen curtains that let in the morning sun. Helen mumbled something incoherently that was most likely her scolding Jasmine for being lazy. Finally, Helen opened the window and walked out only after informing Jasmine that She would bring breakfast to her room today.

Jasmine stood and walked towards the bathroom. Her father built the bathroom to fit a black carved marble bathtub the size of a small pool. There was also a small counter with a large mirror made from glass in white gold and intricate carvings. She stood before the mirror and looked at herself. Her hair was a mess, twisted, twirled, and knotted. Picking up a dark reddish-brown comb, Jasmine tried to brush out some of the knots. Her hair was now just to the point above her waist with slight waves that made her hair seem fluffy yet smooth.

After she finished combing her hair, she slowly descended into the almost scalding water one foot at a time. Finally, she slid more profound into the tub and stared at the ceiling. Everything except her nose was submerged underwater. Whenever she swam or was in the water, she always felt a slight tug or nudge at the back of her mind trying to convince her to let herself sink deeper into the water. Her mother, Yngvaldr, had made her swim from a young age, always alongside her brothers. Her mother and her father had built a water reservoir towards the back of the estate before she was born. Though the artificial lake was good, and the rivers and streams were better, she had always wished to see the ocean. Her mother had come from a northern island called Asvaldr. Jasmine's parents often told her stories about how the sea surrounded the island and its beauty.

She sat up and brushed her hair out of her face. She grabbed one of the many soaps that had been imported from faraway countries, this one smelling of lavender, lemon, and honey. She swiped the bar over and across her body, lingering on the scar that stretched from her collar bone, curving, down to the left side of her hip. No matter how long she had it, the edges of the scar never faded, staying that same puffy reddish-pink colour. The only thing her parents had told her about the scar was that it was from an accident when she was younger, refusing to elaborate further.

A grey woollen towel had been left next to the tub, either from the previous night or this morning she did not know. Never the less she was grateful for the soft fabric as she dried herself off. As she moved out of the bathroom, she put her hair into a loose bun, too lazy to style it.

Helen came in shortly after with a tray with fruits and pastries and a large pot of coffee. Helen, as per usual, sat across from Jasmine at the table in the central part of her suite. They both dug into the food and conversed about the typical topics like fashion, the nobles having scandals, and the war. The only bit of surprising news was that her father had sent word that he would be returning and that he was two days away. She had not seen either of her brothers or her father in over a year.

Jasmine began chewing on her lips. Would they even remember her? What would happen after they come back? "What's bothering you now?" Helen asked, "And stop chewing on your god damnded lips. You are wrecking one of you're best features." She reached across the table to lightly flick Jasmine on her forehead.

"It's just." Jasmine paused and let out a pent-up breath. "Do you think that they'll remember what I looked liked before and be surprised?"

Helen was cleaning the platters that she had brought breakfast on. She cast a sideways glance as she stacked the plates. "You know, sometimes, I think about how you're near the point of womanhood, and I fear for the man who has to put up with you." she hurried out of the room before Jasmine could throw the chocolate-covered pastry that was now in her hands.

"That's hurtful," she mumbled to herself.

She was just about to stand up to go clean the melted chocolate that the croissant smudged onto her fingers before she saw Helen's wheat blonde hair and red eyes peak slightly past the edge of the door, debating whether it was safe enough to enter again. "What is it?" Jasmine asked.

"Your mother, Yngvaldr, wishes to have lunch with you. You are to meet her in her room later today. Do you want me to come back and help you dress later?"

She had now wholly entered the room and had her hands held lightly behind her back. "Is it going to be formal or a relaxed lunch?" Jasmine asked as she tried to open the bathroom door with he elbows.

"It will be as informal and relaxed as a lunch with the queen can be," she responded, the corners of her mouth slightly twitching upwards.

"Right. Yes. Of course. Come back later before lunch," Jasmine said with a nod of dismissal.

After not so gracefully kicking the door open, Jasmine meandered over to the sink and washed off her hands. As she scrubbed the chocolate, she peered into the mirror atop the sink staring directly into her own eyes. To her, it seemed that the amount of those blue vein-like cracks of blue that flowed through her eyes increased every day. She leaned closer to the mirror, staring right in the black center of her eye.

Three loud bangs echoed through her rooms, signalling that she had a visitor. She finished wiping the chocolate off her hands with a light gray towel and walked back towards her door. she opened the door to find the two guards standing with their staffs locked in a cross to block the path of Matt at her door. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

Matts's short black bangs were parted in the middle. "I do not wish to waste any of your time, but I found a new book, one that might pique your interest." he looked inclined to hand her the small beige bag that was hanging limply at his side, but the guards also looked keen to chop off his head.

After an awkward pause of silence, the guards relented and let him hand her the bag. He gave a brief bow, and she could have sworn that he smirked at the guards before turning heel and leaving down the hall. She shut the large door softly and walked over to her bed. She pulled out the small black leather-bound book named 'Sea Of Stars' and began reading. As she started reading, she pulled up her sheets around her body, snuggled into the fuzzy blankets. The fireplace was down to coals, but she didn't dare leave the warmth of her bed to rekindle the fire.

Curled up beneath the sheets, she drifted off into a fitful sleep. She dreamed she was standing on a battlefield. The Battlefield was covered in blood and body parts and the faces of men and women alike, strewn on the ground like broken dolls. She turned around, hearing a loud, piercing scream and a cluster of what appeared to be soldiers kneeling before a corpse and a woman leaning over it. The woman cried as she pounded against the man's chest with her fists. One of the soldiers made a move to place a hand on the woman's shoulder, but his hand merely passed through her shoulder like it was not there in the first place.

"My lady, wake up already. You're to meet with your mother in less than half an hour." Helen pulled off the dark grey sheets of the four-poster canopy bed. Jasmine awoke with the book pressed against her chest as Helen rifled through her closet frowning and mumbling things to herself as she examined the gowns. Then, as Jasmine sat up from the bed, still clothed in her morning robe, Helen pulled out a slim-fitting dark purple dress with black embroidery. "What do you think?" Helen asked as she proudly beheld the gown for Jasmine to see.

"It's a little depressing for a casual lunch, don't you think?" Jasmine asked, plopping her back against one of the bedposts.

"I think that the dark colours will make your eyes pop," Helen said, something like envy in her voice.

With a sigh, Jasmine got up and let Helen put the dress on. The purple did accentuate her eyes, not that she'd ever let Helen know that. They departed the room escorted by her guards and Helen a half-step behind her, as per tradition. Not that it fooled anyone to put up the act of Helen being a servant and not Jasmine's friend, they had long since abandoned those formalities.

They arrived at her mother's suite of rooms minutes later. She had been given a whole wing of the castle just for herself, not that she even used half the rooms. Letting the guards knock for her, she made sure that her hair was looking its best before her mother's steward, Bron, invited them in to eat.

The groom sported a large round table in the center with five chairs around it, her mother sitting in the one furthest away from the door. Different from Jasmine's rooms, these were decorated in all black, save for the wooden furniture. Her mother was about as other looking as Jasmine as could be. She had dirty blonde hair and deep sapphire blue eyes. She was short, another difference, and had sharp facial features instead of Jasmine's soft ones.

Their personalities, however, were the same. Her mother's face softened into a warm smile. "Come. Sit," she said as she pulled out a chair for Jasmine to sit. On the right, Jasmine sat next to her mother and was served tea by her mother's maid, Charlean. Her mother spoke first, "So," she said as she looked over the brim of her cup at Jasmine, "I hear that you found a man lying in a river bed, and then that man proceeded to steal Grace." Jasmine nearly spat out the tea right into her mother's face.

She sat her cup down gently on the accompanying plate and stared her mother directly in her eyes. "I do not know what you are talking about," she said, slightly raising her chin. If her mother was going to play the polite and polished queen, she could play a game herself.

"Really? So did you or did you not sneak out last night to go to the little tavern down the road?" Helen coughed lightly from where she was standing across the room near the door. Traitor.

"What do you want to know?" Jasmine asked.

Her mother was the exact opposite of her father. Her father had always tried to protect her and safeguard her against danger, whereas her mother merely pushed her right into the thick of it. A mischievous little smile split across the queen's lips.

"All I want is to meet him," she said, leaning back into her chair and shrugging. Of course. Her mother had probably wanted to passive-aggressively abuse the man in a battle of verbal blows over brunch. Jasmine had seen her mother play with the people at court, using their words to contradict themselves. It wasn't pretty, maybe funny, but not pretty.

"As you are the queen, I imagine you could meet him if you so wished." Her mother sighed deeply through her mouth.

Leaning her face against her cheek, she looked directly at Jasmine. "Always so secretive with you. Have you heard your father and brothers are returning?" she said, changing the subject. She moved to grab the muffin sitting on the table. "Mikael will probably be jealous at how tall you've gotten." she continued. Jasmine's youngest brother, Mikael, was only 14 and was short compared to the rest of her family, even shorter than her mother.

"Now that father is back, do you think that we could finally go to Ilmatar so I could see the ocean?" Jasmine asked. Ilmatar was the main shipping port of Tzitanu. The city was built into the white seastone cliffs, and they had purchased a villa years ago that looked over the ocean, or so her older brother, Isaiah, had told her. He had gone with her parents before she was born.

"I'm not supposed to tell you, but your father and I have a gift for you. He wants to make up for the Birthday he missed and is taking us on a trip. The destination will be a surprise, even to me." Her mother answered with a smug look on her face. "Only me, you and your father are coming, so don't tell your brothers. Gods forbid they get jealous," she said, rolling her eyes at the thought.

They continued talking and eating before Jasmine returned to her rooms with Helen and only one guard, Sir Darian Blacktyl. She dismissed both of them before she closed her door and nearly jumped with joy. Jasmine was smiling so widely she thought her cheeks would tear open. She was finally going to see the sea. Her mother had said that the destination was a surprise but where else would they go? She took off the gown and put on her nightgown while still imagining the sea and getting to go swimming in the ocean.

The sun was setting through her window, painting the horizon in hues of orange, pink and purple. Dinner would most likely be brought to her room again like this morning, so with nothing else to do, she grabbed the book Matt had lent her and began reading again.

Even though she read over half the book before Helen brought dinner to her room, she couldn't remember at all what happened. She was too busy thinking about her vacation and what it would be like in the city. The meal was a thick and spicy soup with crackers as a side dish. She stayed at the table reading and eating while thinking about the present and her father's return.

Hours later, after dinner, when her eyes had finally gotten tired, she moved to her bed and laid there staring at the strange artwork above her through the translucent fabric of the canopy. She didn't fall asleep for another hour or so, still thinking about when the rest of her family would return. She could have sworn that before she fell asleep that the mural started moving.

She dreamt of that same battle that she had seen the previous night, except that she was in a different part of the field this time. Corpses of humans and animals alike were mangled together, covered in mud, blood, and pieces of metal either sticking into their bodies or protecting them. Her feet were sinking into a puddle of dirt mixed with blood, making a sort of reddish quicksand. She was now down to her knees in the guck. Now panicking as she sunk into the mud, she tried to grab onto anything around her. Finally, she stuck her hand out in front of her holding the arm of a woman lying on the ground. She tugged, trying to pull herself up, only for her to fall backward as the arm was ripped right out of the socket and landed on Jasmine's chest.

She was now down to her waist and was scrambling for anything to help her. She tried to reach out and grab something else, but her arms couldn't reach them; they were too short. She was sinking faster now. She was kicking violently for anything to push her out of the mud. Her earlobes were touching the earth as she took in one last breath before being completely submerged by the soil. The ground seemed to crawl into her nose, strangling her. The mud was cold and seeped into her very bones.

Her lunges were aching, having to hold in her breath. How long had she been submerged under the mud? She couldn't remember. Before her vision went black, the last thing she remembered was to feel her scar sting underneath her clothes.