Baby Prisoner of the Winter Castle

Chapter 1

The floor of the execution chamber was cold. Clarisse squeezed her eyes shut and focused on the sounds coming ever closer. She heard the slashing of a large sword, followed by a painful gasp. She could not tell if the last breath was her father’s or the queen’s as she waited for her turn next to him. Whatever the case, one thing was clear—she would never know the answer because it would be her turn soon enough. Though she had never been treated with much respect in the palace, she was still a princess. And it was only natural for the royal family to be executed after their defeat in war.

Slash. With another swing of the sword, another life was snuffed out. And as the tranquil sound of footsteps came closer and closer to her, Clarisse realized her body was shaking uncontrollably. I’m scared… If anyone asked her if she would miss this life, she would probably say no. After all, she was just a helpless nine-year-old girl growing up without a mother or any relatives on her mother’s side. She was scarred by the malice of all the adults around her.

Still… Clarisse was afraid of death, and she liked living. She liked the moments when she warmed her cold feet under her ragged but thick sheets in the dead of winter. She liked her book that she had read so many times it wouldn’t close properly anymore. She also liked the friend that she made from stones collected in the garden.

Her head drooped, and she hugged her knees tightly.

“I… want to live,” she muttered as the thought of begging the enemy knights or their king for mercy came to mind. At least that would be better than dying without trying anything.

Clarisse slowly looked up. Suddenly, a hand grabbed her by her hair and pushed her head down roughly to the ground. Her forehead throbbed from the impact on the hard floor, but the hand grabbing her hair was more painful.

“Ah!”

“So you want to live, do you?”

It was her older brother. Even at such a moment, his hatred toward her was crystal clear in his tone. It hurts… Her brother’s hand pressed Clarisse’s face down to the floor even more aggressively, and she gritted her teeth to hold back a scream. She knew from experience that screaming would only make his abuse toward her grow more violent.

“Filthy little bastard.”

Two pairs of armored legs and their swords stopped in front of Clarisse. She could instinctively tell it was finally her and her brother’s turn to die. Her frail shoulders began to tremble visibly. And just as the pounding of her own heart filled her ears, her brother yanked her head back up by her hair.

“Ah!”

“The bastard goes first,” he growled, shoving Clarisse toward the knights. “I cannot let the bastard be the last living member of the Grezekaiah royal family, even if it is only for a few seconds.”

Cast to the floor, Clarisse looked up at her brother in a daze. He held his chin high and looked straight into the eyes of the knight pointing his sword at him. This confidence and demeanor did not seem like it would come from a prince of a fallen kingdom about to face his own death.

“The only one who deserves to be the last living member of this royal family is the pure-blooded heir,” he said.

He then glared coldly at Clarisse. Startled, she flinched and turned away. Then her eyes met those of the knight looking down at her.

The tall man towered over her. As they looked at each other, Clarisse could not help but think to herself, He’s dark. Perhaps it was because of his long, pitch-black hair and eyes. The darkness emanating from him seemed to dim even the bright red blood dripping down his cheek. She understood instinctively that he was not the typical knight.

In the next moment, he adjusted his grip on his sword. Clarisse sat up, startled by the sound. Is he really going to kill me first?

“Goodbye, you filthy bastard,” her brother sneered from behind her in a low voice, chuckling.

Clarisse made a desperate wish. No, I… I want to live.

Her father, the king who had ruled with absolute power, was now dead. The queen, who had never once looked at Clarisse with anything but contempt, was dead on the floor next to him. And the corpses of the mighty knights, who had tried to defend them until the very end, were scattered all throughout the large hall. Even the most powerful could not avoid this impending death. So of course, it would be impossible for little Clarisse, with no strength nor ability, to survive.

If that’s the case… I hope it won’t hurt, at least. And she wished that if there were another world after death, it would be better than the one she lived in now.

As she straightened her back with that thought in mind, she felt a small breeze brush past her. She heard the sound of a swinging sword, probably belonging to the man she had just locked eyes with. She clenched the hem of her shabby dress with her rigid fingers.

Slash. There was a sound of metal slicing through flesh, and then she felt something warm dripping down her face.

Am I dead…? she wondered for a moment. But she did not feel any pain.

Just then, a man’s voice echoed from the distance.

“It wasn’t a bad suggestion. The disgrace of having a bastard be the last living royal, even for a second, would be more terrible than death.”

At the same time, Clarisse sensed her brother’s body collapsing to the floor next to her. The man with the dark emanating from him had not accepted his request.

“Well, you always did have a soft spot for bastards like me, Brother.”

Another unfamiliar man’s voice grew closer and stopped right in front of Clarisse. She carefully opened her eyes and looked up at him. The man who had approached her while speaking in a sarcastic tone was incredibly beautiful—so beautiful that Clarisse couldn’t help but be mesmerized even in these circumstances. Come to think of it, she had heard that the king of Shefers Kingdom—who had invaded her kingdom—was a man of incredible beauty. People said anyone who saw him in person would haplessly fall in love.

The king’s glimmering eyes focused on Clarisse for a moment.

“Let’s finish this up and go,” he said.

Clarisse quickly ducked her head at his indifferent tone. By “finish,” he surely meant killing her. I guess this is really it… The wave of fear that had ebbed a little came rushing back. The sword dripping with her brother’s blood would slice through her as well.

She barely managed to keep her body from collapsing in fear and sat up with her back straight. If she were to die, she would at least live her final moments like a princess.

The man with the dark hair walked up to her. She tightly squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of his sharp blade. But at the next moment, what she heard was not the horrifying crunch of it slashing through her bones. The black-haired man recited the law of the Shefers Kingdom in a calm voice.

“The princess is too young, Your Majesty,” the voice said, yet it did not carry a tone of sympathy or hesitation. “Those under the age of eighteen shall not be executed. No king in history has broken this law, Your Majesty.”

“But she’s a prisoner of war,” the king replied in a dissatisfied tone from a few steps away.

“Yes, but executing a child is forbidden by law.”

There was a hint of stubbornness in the man’s voice. The king turned back to Clarisse and walked up to her.

“So, you want to keep a vestige of the war alive?”

The black-haired man sheathed his sword and bowed to the beautiful king.

“That is the law, Your Majesty.”

There was no reply.

Hearing their conversation, hope began to bloom inside Clarisse. Perhaps she wouldn’t die right here, right now.

The king of Shefers patted Clarisse’s pink-haired head with his palm.

“I didn’t expect to have this pointless argument with you, Brother. She has some lowborn blood in her, but she still carries the slain king’s blood in her veins. We can’t have her espousing some nonsense about justice and seeking revenge later on, can we?”

“I… I won’t! I won’t seek revenge!” Clarisse hastily blurted out. She worried that the dark-haired man would change his mind and kill her if she did not.

The two men turned toward her. They seemed a little taken aback by her sudden protest, but she didn’t notice.

“I-I swear…”

The king smirked. “Then will you hold a grudge? Curse me until your last breath? Or perhaps hold ambitions of rebuilding your old kingdom?”

Clarisse shook her head frantically. She truly meant it—there was no reason for her to hold a grudge when she had only suffered in this court.

“I won’t! I-I…”

Clarisse was terrified, but she looked straight into the eyes of the two men.

“I just want to live!”

Enjoying the warmth of the covers in the winter, caressing her one and only book, playing with the stones she collected… It may have seemed like a pathetic life for a noble, but it was the only life she had.

“I will live quietly as if I am dead. Please, just let me live for a few more years— No, just a little longer,” she pleaded.

After looking silently at her for a while, the king looked back and forth between her and the dark man and chuckled.

“You have a tendency to attract bastards to you, huh, Brother?”

The dark man was silent.

“As you wish, then.”

After the king waved his hand and walked away, the dark man offered his hand to Clarisse. It was covered in blood, but it was a lifeline to her. She quickly grabbed his hand. When he pulled her to her feet, the king suddenly turned around from a few steps away, as if he had just remembered something. He grinned brightly.

“Oh. Don’t forget, Brother: On the day she turns eighteen, you owe me her head.”