“Take Queen Constance now and protect her and our daughter with your lives!” King Christian said to the four servants loading the plain, aged carriage.

The king was not an old man--he was only in his thirtieth year--but on this normally joyous night, he looked years older. His dark, wavy hair was askew under his ill-placed gold crown. He wore battle armor with his kingdom’s crest on it and a red velvet cape down his back. His brown eyes were almost black with worry and dread.

The four servants--one a stable boy, one a paige, one a cook, and one a midwife--finished packing the carriage. They moved with a great haste for danger and death were coming their way. With a sad smile aimed at them, the king then wiped it away, turned, and took his pregnant queen by the hand. The midwife’s eyes widened when she caught sight of twenty-eighth year Queen Constance’s bursting belly and sweat drenched forehead under her golden locks. The queen bore no crown this night and wore a peasant woman’s gown. The midwife rushed to her.

“The baby’s comin’. Fast,” the older woman said.

The king gave his wife a kiss and whispered something in her ear that brought tears to her eyes. The queen, the midwife, and the cook--a woman only a year or two younger than the midwife--loaded into the carriage. The stable boy and the paige loaded into the driver’s seat and took the horses’ reins.

“Protect them. And tell no one who they truly are,” the king said.

The two young men gave their words of honor. With a crack of the reins, the carriage carrying five--soon six--people vanished past the castle’s walls. King Christian sighed as the sounds of his knights dying grew closer to him. He turned slowly as the door behind him opened.

There--with a bloodied sword in hand--stood the true cause of the king’s strife. The younger, blond haired, hazel-eyed man in crimson armor was a ruthless warlord known as Stonan Mercae. He smiled as he slowly, lazily, approached Christian.

“Your castle, your lands, are mine. Bow to me or die,” Mercae said.

Christian stood, straight-backed, meeting Stonan in the eye.

“I will not, for you would kill me anyhow. I cannot live for I have the true claim to this throne. You may take all the Liberated Kingdoms, you may kill all of their kings, but the people will not forget us. They will be liberated once more,” Christian said, folding his hands behind his back.

Mercae sneered. “Very well. But rest assured, if you are relying on that prophecy about your daughter, then you will be sadly mistaken. Now, I know it won’t be Christmas for another hour but…”

Stonan swept his blade through King Christian’s neck, causing his head and body to fall separately to the ground.

“Merry Christmas.”

It does not make birthing a child any easier if the mother-to-be finds out her husband has just been murdered. Such was the case for the former Queen Constance as a knight loyal to her and her king rushed to tell her. As Constance cried out in agony of both losing her husband and childbirth, the midwife shooed the knight from the bedroom. The group that had escaped the castle massacre had come to rest in a cottage in the country thirty minutes before it was Christmas.

“Push, dear, push. Your daughter is almost here,” the midwife urged the queen.

However, it was not until 12:01 a.m., Christmas Day, that Queen Constance’s and King Christian’s daughter came screaming into life. After the babe was cleaned and swaddled, the midwife smiled and handed the baby girl to the queen, saying, “Merry Christmas, Your Highness.”

With tears of joy and sorrow, Constance replied, “I am queen no longer, Sherry. Not until my little girl can reclaim her birthright as was foretold a century ago by the sorceress Jadai.”

“Very well. Then what shall we call her?” Sherry the Midwife asked.

“I very much like the name Merri.”

“Merri it is then, Constance. Now, as in the tradition of both welcoming a new baby and of Christmas, I have a gift from one of the neighboring kingdoms.”

As Sherry turned and opened the bedroom door, Constance sat up. She returned with a large box.

“Where…how? No one is supposed to know!” Constance said as the midwife took Merri and the former-queen took the box.

“And no one does. It had arrived at the castle night before last. I snatched it to take with us. Open it.”

With a small smile, Constance did so. Her eyes widened upon seeing the contents inside. She lifted one up.

“It’s two…peacocks,” she said.

“Not just any peacocks. These are enchanted with long life, intelligence, and loyalty. They are for your daughter. They are pre-named as well,” Sherry explained.

“Their names are…?” Constance asked as she petted the one she held.

“The one you hold is Peace, and the other in the box--who has a slightly smaller tail span--is Love.”

The former-queen laughed. “How perfect. Peace and Love to watch over my daughter.”

Sherry smiled, and the infant princess’s only response was a yawn.