There fell a stillness upon the village when he came. The prince of Gilelda, poised and absolute atop his ivory mare who treaded softly and andante along the riverbank, following the current which ran deep and green, dipping into the brush and widening out into a vast pool. Sycamore trees often hindered his trail yet he manoeuvred his mare seamlessly, rich golden eyes glancing up through thick lashes. A prince of just 15 years, a soon to be king unknown to the kingdoms he would rule in a matter of months upon his 16th birthday, beneath the green that arched above his petite form in an arch, branches entangled to resemble the elegant roof of a ballroom. He dismounted his horse and stooped lowly to pick a daisy from the earth. Twirling it between
