A.N - Hey guys. I'm sorry I haven't been around in a while. School, then a broken laptop that was taken away for repairs. That kinda thing. I'm posting this as a kind of "please forgive me" story. Cos, the thing is, it's gonna get worse. It's Mock time. And my school so brilliantly scheduled the language oral mocks three days in a row. Guess who took all three languages... So, yeah. One of the many things I'm stressing about.

Anyway, tell me what you think? I'm aware it's very Anastasia-esque. But it's just a prologue. It will change. And the title is subject to change.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All Meg Cabot who, unfortunately, has the sole rights to Jesse De Silva. Accept for maybe Suze.


Fairytales

ONCE UPON A TIME there lived a young, handsome prince. His hair was wildly curly, yet tame, stopping just below the nape of his neck and his wide, brown eyes often held a glint of something – happiness, excitement. It was rare to see this Prince without a smile spread across his deeply tanned face, just as it was rare to see this Prince without one of his younger sisters demanding attention from him.

Prince Hector could always be found playing with Princess Marta in the gardens, or giving young Princess Rosita a ride on his back as the rest of his sisters cheered happily, applauding and demanding it be their turn next.

Entertaining his sisters was not the only thing this young Prince was good at either; by the age of sixteen, Hector was fluent in three languages, his skills with a sword were unrivalled and no one objected to the thought of him becoming King after his father.

The De Silva's were the pride of the kingdom – they ruled with dignity and diplomacy. The thought of anything happening to their beloved monarchy filled the kingdom with fear and fury so potent that, should the occasion ever arise, war seemed inevitable.

And something did happen.

Two months after the Prince's seventeenth birthday, terror reigned in the extravagant palace. The beloved King and Queen had been celebrating their anniversary – a ball was being held in their honour. The palace's great hall was overflowing with expensive gowns and jewellery, smartly dressed gentleman as escorts and gushing comments about how happy the King and Queen looked, after all this time together.

Prince Hector and his sisters dominated the floor, candles flickering over each of their smiling faces as Hector took it in turns escorting the Princesses on a waltz around the room. Anybody looking at the scene smiled, touched.

The celebration had only been going for an hour when the door was thrown open; Two single figures stood darkly silhouetted against the deceptively calm, inky-black night. One of the figures raised a hand, the silver glint of a gun visible to all present, and fired a single shot.

Prince Hector reacted instantly, dropping to the floor and tugging on Princess Marta's hand to enable her to react just as quickly. Between them, they cradled their younger sisters in their protective embrace, shushing them and calming them down as the cold marble floor impacted harshly against them.

The King, however, did not react so quickly.

Whizzing past Prince Hector's head, the bullet quickly found its mark, embedding itself in the King's chest.

The guests screamed in horror as they watched their King fall. The scream of the Queen was non-existent; instead, her mouth fell open in silent horror as her eyes watered and her hand rose to cover her open mouth. His children were silent, their traumatised faces rising slightly above the hunched backs of other guests who'd thought to duck for cover. The sight of their father on the floor, warm scarlet blood spreading from underneath him in a sickening pool of blood, silenced the young monarchs.

Until Princess Rosita found her voice. Tears streamed from her brown eyes as she witnessed the scene, screaming in horror, "Daddy!"

The men at the door took a step inside, interrupting the grotesque scene they had created. Both men's faces were hidden in shadows.

"I suggest," One man spoke, his chilling voice echoing around the still, cavernous room, "that unless you wish the same to happen to you," he gestured cruelly with his gun to the still body of the King. "You all leave. The kingdom." He paused as his face twisted into a vicious smirk. "If I ever see another De Silva in this kingdom again, it will be the last thing they see."

He fired a shot in the air, an expensive chandelier shattering and plummeting towards the ground in a whirl of golden catastrophe.

"Now."

The man turned and looked at his son, nodding once as the other boy pulled a dagger from his pocket.

His target wasn't hard to find in the panicked mess of guests. Prince Hector had left his sisters to the care of the eldest Princess as he himself went to collect his mother from her fallen husband's side. The Prince swallowed visibly as his eyes fell on his father's pale face before he turned his back on the sight, collecting his mother under his arm and ushering her out the door – out of their home.

As they passed, he slid the dagger out stealthily, catching the young Prince in his side and revelling in the hiss of air he sucked in at the pain.

Prince Hector whirled around to stare at his attacker as his hand came to clutch at his wound. All he could of the man was his eyes. They were the lightest, sparkling blue possible for a shade of eye colour and Prince Hector knew that he would never forget those eyes for as long as he lived.

The De Silva's left their home without a second glance backwards, unwilling to see the destructive mess it had become, and stole off into the night, away from their father's hideous assassin and the boy with the blue eyes.


Regardless of what had been said, the De Silva's did not flee the country. The townspeople of the kingdom, instead, offered to help them. They received a house, furniture and clothes, all without cost.

But they couldn't live forever on the townspeople's kindness. The King's murderer had taken the throne as his own, together with his wife and two sons, and had raised taxes and demanded a higher workload, if only to be more profitable to him.

It was down to Hector, as the only one able to work, to support his family. He found a job nearby with a carpenter who was willing to give Hector a chance, in spite of the common misconception that, as he had been raised a Prince, he had not done any amount of work in his life.

This Prince – who was born and raised a gentleman and hadn't a bone of hatred in him, until that fateful night – and his family didn't get the happy ending they deserved. In this case, it was evil that had triumphed, and gained all the power, leaving the good unable to get their HAPPILY EVER AFTER.