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Hello there, this is my new “fic”. This is my first shot at writing original fiction. Now…before you go on a rampage…this is my prologue for my book. I’m going to be posting the prologue and the first chapter (which is being written as I type…well kind of)…so I hope you like it!
OH! I’ve been looking for a good beta. I mean I have one of my friends, Dove-Feathered Raven, but I hate bugging her for reading my stuff. So email me if you want to beta! Or I’ll beta for you!
-Magique-
Prologue
A blood red sun set in the west, ended a new day. A young woman close to the age of thirty-nine stood on her balcony overlooking her city of Alexandria. Salty drops ran down her tan cheeks, leaving wet trails. A great cry of distress emerged from her throat, causing her to sob.
‘Why’ she thought. ‘Why did he do it? It was my fault.’
Cleopatra’s beloved, Marcus Antonius, also known as the great Marc Antony, had stabbed himself a few days before. Marc had yelled her name up and down the streets saying she had betrayed him. Hearing this, Cleopatra faked her death, in order for her to escape this lie. When Marc heard of this from her servant, the only thing he knew he could do was die. In a minor state of depression, Marc said his last words, and stabbed himself.
Soon after wounding himself, Marc found out his beloved was not in fact dead. Ordering one of his servants, he had himself brought to her for his last minutes of his life. He died within the hour, and was allowed a proper burial. Octavian, the new captor of the city, put Cleopatra in solitary confinement. He did not want her to do anything drastic. Everything brought to her room had to be checked before entering her chamber. On this day, Cleopatra had some figs delivered. After hearing a knocking at her door, Cleopatra wiped her tears, and answered the call of one of her servants.
“My Lady, your figs are here. Would you like anything else brought to you?”
“No thank you. I shall be alright. Thank you and good-night.” responded the Egyptian queen.
As her room returned to its normal darkness, the young woman took her last breath of fresh air, and entered the main room of her chamber. Opening the basket of figs, she tipped over the contents, revealing one of the world’s most deadly snakes, the Asp.
“My country needs me no more. And now…” Her slender hands picked up the virulent creature, and let it take a taste of her arm. It coiled itself around her wrist, and took a bite. “Let the poison run through my veins to the generation’s ahead, letting them realize…I was always…royalty…”
The next morning Octavian, the captor of this great cit, entered her room, only to find Cleopatra dead. Two pricks no more than an inch in width were found on her limp arm. Before she died, she had written a note to Octavian, asking to be buried with her beloved Marc Antony. The King granted her soul wish, burying her with the great Roman general. From that day forward, the descendants of Cleopatra VII and Marcus Antonius journeyed to Egypt, in search of their family's past. Many of these truths were passed down through the generations, but one certain detail about the death of the two fated lovers did not happen to reach the ears of their kin. Where did this rift happen in history?
Aur Revoir-
-Magique-
