Prologue of Obsession

Alright, because both Em and Becca are posting their writing, I feel like I have to compete xP So, here's Obsession (the prologue) from a few months ago.

“Hear ye, hear ye,” Began the King’s herald. Curious town’s people slowly gathered ‘round the man. He was scruffy looking – a scraggly beard spoke true to that – but he carried an air of importance nonetheless. However, at this precise moment, he looked as if he might’ve started crying. Something terrible had happened – that much was clear. Even the little children could sense it – rather then crying and yelling, they clutched their mothers’ skirts and waiting silently – utterly silent – for the herald to begin.

“The once future Queen, Andreina Annalysse Vin – ” Here, the herald paused to wipe away a few stray tears before starting up again, “The once future Queen Andreina Annalysse Vincent has been murdered.” There was a shocked silence, and then a few gasps, as if the news was finally settling in. Princess Andreina? Their sweet, caring future ruler? Murdered? “She was found in her bed a fortnight ago, looking peaceful, as if asleep. We do not know who killed her, nor why. And we most certainly cannot begin to imagine how.”

“What of the Crown Prince Lucas? They were engaged, were they not?” A young woman yelled, cradling two children.

“He is devastated beyond words. He refuses to eat, or drink, he has locked himself in his chambers, and he will not stop blaming himself,” The herald replied. The herald was so broken up over the death of such a beloved character, that he ignored the standard procedures, and began answering the commoners’ questions.

“And you do not know why she was killed?” A man with an axe called.

“If we did know why she was murdered, ‘twould not be so surprising that she was. Her death is a shocking tragedy. Prince Lucas has asked that each of you personally attend the funeral,” The herald said. Everyone gasped – the royal funeral? A once in a lifetime experience! Slowly – after a few more questions had been asked – the throng began to dissemble.

“A royal funeral – what do ye think o’ that?” A woman near the back asked a hooded man.

“Indeed. ‘Tis very exciting,” The man nodded, his green eyes flashing momentarily.

“Wha’ do ye think o’ the murder? Per’aps Princess Andreina ‘ad a darker side out o’ the public reach,” The woman suggested.

“I do not think so,” The man said, flatly.

“Well, wha’e’re the reason, I myself am jus’ ‘appy to be invited,” The woman paused here, “Murdered. Oy, who woulda though’? I wonder wha’ ‘appened to the poor woman. Peaceful, as if sleepin’. Who do ye think might’ve done it? Perhaps tha’ jealous brother? ‘E seemed to always be unusually quie’ a’ all o’ the festivals and dances, an’ such.”

“I fear I don’t know,” The man shrugged. The woman walked away, leaving the hooded man alone. He sighed, and looked to the sky.

“Five hundred years,” He muttered, to no one, “Five hundred years, and it’ll all make sense.” He looked back down, and mounted his horse, riding away – away from the memories, away from the pain… away from the recollection that he was the reason that the future Queen had been murdered.

Voila! Don't steal, don't copy, etc, etc.