“I have to get us to safety.” The Princess thought, her haggard breath falling into rhythm with the patter of her bloody feet. Her legs quivered with every arduous, impossible step she took. Pain shot through her abdomen after every stumble. Still, she held her precious bundle close at chest, its warmth a small comfort. She had to get away.

Darting her eyes over the fetid moonlit streets she searched for a route through this place. Southshore, the name for the ever-sprawling squalor that enwrapped the city of Terminia. The slum's burgeoning masses formed from the soiled leftovers tossed aside by wasteful nobles. “I can still help these people,” she thought, if only they survived this.

She stepped through warm refuse tossed from windows above. It had come from those scrap cobbled shacks that stood as testaments to the common folk’s perseverance. The Princess passed them by with desperate speed; a need to get away from the castle as fast as possible.

“It is not safe princess. You must flee.” That is what he had told her. So, she had fled despite everything. She trusted that man, she trusted him more than anyone now. So she ran, mere hours after giving birth.

Peering now at the silk-wrapped bundle in her arms, she realized in her frenzy for safety she had not checked on the child in far too long. Her Baby. The firstborn of heir apparent Luce Enyenweld. The baby cooed as its large eyes stared back at her. Those large, mismatched eyes, one gold and one silver. She would save this child; it was the only thing she could think of as she staggered through the streets. She would save this child if it killed her.

The Princess stumbled across dimly lit streets for hours. The sounds of ringing castle bells echoed from far above now. They were looking for her. With raw feet from jagged stone and stale dirt, her body shivered from both pain and cold. She endured. She could not falter, not when she was so close. She was almost where he had promised protection awaited. Decrepit pubs and boarded up group houses passed as she stumbled along. Dirty streets gave way to tight alleyways crisscrossing the maze of the slum. She endured, pushing past every worn building and broken street.

A towering figure rounded a crumbling corner ahead. She stopped. The pale moon light sharply illuminated the man's protruding brow and toothy grin. He strode over to her with knife drawn and she froze, her heartbeat dropping with her step. No, not like this.

"Alright now, I don't be intending any blood on my hands tonight so hand over your..." He trailed off as he looked her up and down. His ruddy face forming surprise, then concern. "Y... Your Royal Highness." His voice thick and muddy as he struggled to sound proper. "I..." he dropped his knife and fell to his knees. “I beg your forgiveness.”

Her heart beat once more. Perhaps there is yet hope for Southshore after all. She had always told her husband so. The Princess looked at her infant for a moment, she could not do this alone. Letting her years of courtly training take over, she spoke. "Child of Terminia, I am in desperate need of assistance. Will you honour the crown in service to me?”

Their eyes locked, and he nodded sternly. Rising, he unclasped his thick woolen cloak and wrapped it around her. The warmth embraced her as a welcome friend.

"You look cold." He stumbled through the words. "Your Royal Highness." She had met many like this during her charitable work in Southshore. Good men and women turned to dark deeds out of desperation. That was a failure on her people’s part. The nobles of the land.

"Come friend of Terminia, I have need to reach an inn called the Silver Spike. I believe it to be in this direction." She looked back at him as he stopped.

"The Silver Spike m'lady?" His brow furrowed in concern. She simply nodded, slowly, unsure. "That ain’t no spot in town for a princess." His voice laden with concern. She placed her small hand on his arm.

"Then I am blessed by the Pantheon to have such a noble protector." At that, his chest burgeoned forward and his spine straightened, with a chin now held high. How simple a thing that? She thought. Give these people something to do, some direction in life, and they rise to such heights. These were good people here in Southshore. When she made it out of this chaos, she would help them. She took his arm in hers. "What is your name friend?" She asked as they stumbled along together.

"The name's Rokem Your Highness. " He flashed her a weak smile. “You saved my sister once y'know? Brought her to one of the healers you did.” His smile grew as she clung to his arm for strength, his reddish skin leathery to her touch. “We people love you; we keep sayin' how much better everything's gunna be when your husband gets on the throne.” Rokem continued his nervous ramblings. She could almost have laughed had she not been so tired. They could make it, she knew it. She had hope now.

"Master Rokem, you honour me..." An arrow exploding through Rokem's throat cut her short. Blood splattered through the air. Her eyes widening as the man collapsed. Only sickening gurgles escaping his pierced throat. She looked on in shock as Rokem clawed at the wound, trying with every effort in vain to find a breath.

Then she felt it. A sharp sensation in her back, and through her chest. She stumbled forward at the force. Glancing down she stared at the wound. Blood dripped down the front of her shift, slipping along her body and onto the child in her arms. Blessedly it had not hit the baby. The thought a twisted joy as she fell to her knees.

She watched in disbelief as the arrow that would take her life dissipated into smoky shadows. She had never seen magic like that before. Collapsing, her life poured out in thick streams of crimson. With all her remaining strength, she twisted her body. Falling to her side, she protected the child.

The Princess lay there, her limbs growing frigid and stiff, panic slowly turning to sorrow. Not sorrow for herself, she would die here, and she knew that. She could accept that. But sorrow for her child that would never know the wonders of life and love.

A tear streaked her face as she tried to scream for help, but it only came out as a desperate wheeze. “Ethinia save my child please.” She cried instead, beseeching the First Mother.

Footsteps sounded behind her. The rough clank of heavy greaves against packed dirt.

"Please." She croaked. "Please save my baby. Please." She heard a sound. Was that an infant crying? She couldn’t tell. Everything seemed so numb now. So far away. She felt something tugging at her arms. The princess tried to fight but she was so tired. "Please." Her pleas leaving her lips lazily now. A weight lifted from her arms, and they fell limp to her body. Please what? She was so tired now; hadn’t she been carrying something? The crying faded, and the Princess died.