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Chapter 1: Beginnings
     “Today's the day my son,” said a tall white-haired elf. He was in his twenty-sixth year, and was dressed from head to toe in the uniform that marked the humble servants to the royal family. This job had been passed down form generation to generation in his family, along with a hidden loathing for the king and queen that they worked for. That, and a small heirloom, an elven dagger, on its blade engraved, “to my son.” The elf closed the box that contained the dagger and pushed it across the table to his child.
     He was in his tenth year, with hair so blond it would be considered the white that distinguished his family. Dressed in a smaller version of his father's uniform and a pair of oversized glasses, he set down the bread he was greedily munching to examine the box that had been passed to him.
     “What is it?” enquired his son.
     “Open it and see.”
     The small elf opened the box and withdrew the dagger. He brandished the blade, and swung it around like the palace guards on the hour, every hour.
     “I have a special job for you,” said the tall elf.

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     She was tucked in, the same way as every night, with a kiss from her mother, then her father. She smoothed back her long auburn hair, then situated herself in a comfortable position in her roomy bed. 
     “Good night my precious,” said her father, a tall serious looking elf.
     “Good night daddy,” said she.
     Her mother and father thee turned to leave the room, blew out her lamp, and closed the door behind them. They started down the long, decorated hallway. There was a luxurious, blood red carpet beneath their feet, trimmed with gold floss, and blue and purple banners lining the walk, adorned with the royal family's seal.
     “She really is growing up fast. Soon she will be getting married, and ruling just as we did, but...” said her mother. She had long and shiny black hair, neatly pulled back into a bun. Her husband stroked his wife's pale cheek.
     “Don't worry, just enjoy the time we have with her now, while she's young.” They exchanged worried looks, subliminally considering the new day and age that she would be forced to rule in.
     They returned to the main hall, where their son, who had just reached his teens, was sitting near the window, daydreaming. He was very tall for his age, like most of the royal family, with the same long black hair that his mother had.
     “And you, young man,” said his father, pointing at him, “need to go to bed. You can watch the stars from your room. Don't worry, they wont be going anywhere.”
     The young elf trudged down the hall, to his room, muttering incomprehensible curses to his early curfew. He fell on top of his bed, and sighed. He pulled the blankets around him, and slowly drifted off to sleep.
     The parents returned to their walk down the hall. Making loving glances at each other, they thought about their children, their kingdom, and their life. They thought about how wonderful their lives were, and how lucky they were to have them. Blissfully walking down the hall, they were blind to the events that were to come later that night.

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     “What are you talking about?” queried the young, white haired elf. “Its late! Cant we wait until morning to do...whatever you were talking about?”
     “Now. This we do now,” said his father. He opened a small cabinet, containing an assortment of shoddy swords and daggers. He carefully examined each one, then unhooked the one he found most to his liking, and closed the cabinet. 
     “Well, get your dagger. We leave now.”
     “What?! Where are we going? What are we doing with swords and daggers....HEY! We're not gonna hurt anybody, are we?”
     His father did not answer. He just opened the door and walked outside of his shack, and his son hurriedly followed after. 
     They walked on, first at a slow, normal pace, then once they neared the palace that put their lilliputian shack in shadow, started hiding, stealthily moving silently, toward the castle. The boy's father, suddenly grabbed his arm and held him back behind the decorative shrubbery as two palace guards walked by. Beads of sweat ran down his father's face and dripped onto his arm. He could hear the beating of his father's heart pounding inside his chest, and still obliviously wondered why. Once the guards passed, his father led him to the outer wall of the castle.
     His father bent a bush out of the way of a small door, a chute which was usually used for incoming parcels and messages. It was barely big enough for the boy to fit through.
     “Now, go through here. You will come out inside the castle walls. I need you to open that door,” as he pointed at a larger locked door, for incoming livestock, a few yards away. “Can you do that for me?”
     The boy solemnly nodded his head and opened the chute. The inside was dusty and smelled like mildew, yet he crawled his way through. There were monstrous cobwebs, it was obvious that it hadn't been used for a while. Once he made it to the other side, he immediately had to duck out of the way from the postal clerk, coming to check for messages. He hid behind a stack of old crates, as the clerk checked the chute, and was surprised to see two streaks where the dust and dirt had been wiped clean, where the boy's knees had slid. The clerk looked around unenthusiastically, and with no interest in finding what had made the clean streaks inside the chute, and left the room. The boy waited until he knew the clerk wouldn't be right outside the door, and then followed behind him.
     He came out into a long, dreary hallway, lined with large doors. He started walking to his right, until he came to the next door. He opened it slowly and peered inside. No obvious persons were within it, so he slipped in. The room was filled with hay and animal droppings. Across the room he saw another door, that looked just like the one he saw outside. He tiptoed around the muck and straw and opened the door. There sat his father, eagerly waiting.
     “Its about time,” he said as he handed the small dagger back to the boy. They both went back inside the empty livestock room, and into the long hallway. 
     “Now we need to get to the main hall. I think its this way...” as he pointed to his left. They walked back past the postal room, and walked to the end of the hall. There they found a wooden door, larger than the others. His father opened it slowly and they both crept inside.
     They had entered the kitchen, empty, because the family had already finished their dinner, and the china was cleaned and put away. They walked down the rows of counter tops and sinks, and past the enormous fireplaces.
     The father opened the door at the end of the kitchen, and they came into the main hall. Far ahead of him, the boy could make out two figures, the king and queen.
     “Now you need to be completely silent. If you make a sound, you will be killed. Now quickly, follow me,” whispered his father. He dashed down the hallway as fast as his short legs could carry him, trying to keep up with his father, and not make a sound. Pretty soon, they caught up with the king and queen, still unaware of their presence. He looked up at his father, his eyes full of hate. He stopped and listened to the sound of his own heartbeat, and wondered how amazing it was that the couple ahead could not hear it. He was sweating profusely, and felt dizzy. His father crept closer to the king and queen. 
     Finally when they were within arms distance, his father looked down at his son, then at the back of the king. He plunged his sword into the king's back, and through his chest. The king tried to scream, but nothing came out. His lungs were deflated, and fell to the ground as soon as his father withdrew the blade. His wife, speechless, dropped down beside him in agony.
     “What....why.........?” She stammered, looking for an explanation, words, that just wouldn't come.
     His father wrapped his arm forcefully around her neck. She tried to free herself, but was too weak. The father took his blade in his other hand and slowly slit the queen's throat. Blood sputtered out onto the already blood red carpet, and she fell down clutching the gash on her neck.
     The boy was terrified. He looked back up at his father, who was standing proudly, admiring his deed. He looked back down at his son. “Two more to go,” he said with a grin. His father pointed at a door that was a few feet away. “Go check in there for the girl, I trust that you can take care of her, hmm? And I'll find the son.”
     The boy could not bring himself to move. His father was already far down the hallway, checking inside doors for the son's bedroom. He looked down at the king and queen, both now dead. Their vacant eyes stared back up at him. His mouth felt dry, and his stomach ached.
Then he noticed that his shoes and the cuffs of his pants were stained with blood. He looked back up at his father, this time attracting his attention.
     “Go now son! You need to hurry or we'll get caught!”
     He swallowed his breath and walked over to the door nearest to him. It creaked open, and there sat the girl on her bed, eyes wide, and gasping for breath, for she was terrified of the sounds she had just heard outside her door. He slowly walked up to her bedside holding his dagger up. She screamed in panic and edged her way off of her bed and towards her window.
     “Don't you touch me! Get away!”
     The boy lowered his dagger and let silent tears fall down his face. He fell to the floor. The girl peered over her bed at him, and looked at him with pity. He looked back up at her.
     “You need to get out of here now,” he wept. “I can't kill you. Just get out of here.”
     “Where do I go?” she demanded. 
     The boy did not know, he could only think of what his father would think if he did not do his duty. “Anywhere. Anywhere but here.”
     She glanced over to the window, then back at the boy, then back at the window again. She walked back over to it, and climbed out. 

Yoroshiku Chapter 2