The Queen sat there, basking in the golden sun. The beams bounced off of her golden throne and her golden crown, blinding anyone who was walking by. The castle was dark other than the bright star that shone through the sunroof. She looked up, admiring her extremely high ceilings. She had picked that spot for her throne just so the light could shine on her.

Sighing, she thought about her husband who she had not seen in a few days. It was normal for a husband at that time, to go around with whores and pay off for pleasure that The Queen could not give, or should I say, would not give.

The Queen's daughter walked in, picking up the ends of her heavy dress. Like all old fairy tales, her daughter was a beautiful sight, and sadly, the mother was not. The daughter was petite, healthy, and strong, while The Queen was fat, sparing none of her food to the village they ruled. The daughter thought of her mother as reckless and thoughtless, as The Queen never thought of anyone but herself.

Envious is what you would call The Queen. The beautiful, fair, and smart princess roamed until she took a break on her own throne. Her throne was placed as a wedge in between The Queen and The King. She sat there straight and delicate, waiting or her father who rounded the corner with his long powerful strides.

The King might've been unfaithful, but he was a good father to his daughter. The father worked well for his kingdom, and fixed many problems that his own father could not. The King sat down on his throne proudly, as he should be.

The King's ears perked as the Duke came in and stood by his side, whispering words into The King's ear.

"Why were they sitting there?" you may ask, but it was nothing too serious or too special, they were just getting their family portrait done. At a time of no camera, people came in to paint. This painting was going to be large, an unnecessary amount of cloth was being used for the portrait.

In the kingdom's eyes, they were the best. In the Queen's eyes, she was the best. And in the King's eyes, what he did was the best.

But like every other generation, the child saw the faults that they could one day, hopefully fix. The Princess looked over to her father who stood up once the Duke was finished.

"Princess! Run!" The daughter stood up, staring at her father in fear and confusion. The King's arms pushed his daughter as the entrance to the palace broke open. Men charged, guards went en garde, and The King drew out his sword.

The Queen sat there in her fat lumps, frightened. Maids screamed, peasants questioned, bodies dropped, and The Queen eventually fled.

In her own room she went, where a man in a mask waited. Her greediness, anger, sloth, envy, and gluttony coursed through her body, making her unable to run away in time. Like the devil's hands were holding her feet still. The masked man stabbed her heart. Squishing noises flooded through their ears as the mysterious man pulled his sword out of the sin filled body.

The King fought back, and with all his might, he tried to win. But the attack was so surprising and over powering, that he never got his head in the game, but instead got his head chopped off. The King's head rolled on the beautiful white floor, spoiling the pureness. His head was kicked, his crown was smashed, and his death was unnoticed.

The pride ate away at his soul, along with his lust. His death was a blessing you could say, as it was a clean cut along his throat.

Now the Princess ran far from the fight. Her shoes clinked when they collided with the floor, echoing down the long, brightly lit hallway. A man jumped out from a room in front of her and she shrieked, falling to the floor. The man took a step forward and she crawled back, never turning her head from his direction.

"Do not worry princess." This did not calm The Princess down, as a man was walking to her with a bloody sword. "I will not harm you, let me help you up." The masked man from before, wiped his sword off using the long and heavy curtains. He gracefully put his sword back into the scabbard and held out his hand. The Princess did not take it, as she was frozen in fear, deeply breathing and almost hyperventilating.

The masked man took her hands and lifted her to her feet. In those few seconds that he saw her, he admired her beauty. Her long black hair, her pale white face, her deep brown eyes, and her soft pink lips. The Princess ripped her hands away from him and ran, looking back only once. The masked man watched her hold the red dress up, preventing herself from stepping on the hem and falling again. The tiara that once rested upon her head, was now on the floor, just a few feet away from him. He picked it up and placed it in his satchel.

For once more, he looked towards the princess who was already at the end of the hallway, making her escape. The masked man ran the opposite way, going back to his own kingdom that he lived in. Back to his luxurious room and back into the silk sheets of his large bed.