11 May, 1359. Magdaline Castle, Islia.
The morning was cloudy as Violet walked back to her rooms from the chapel. She was in a dark mood and the passing courtiers all gave her a wide berth, as if sensing her low spirits.
Springtime was well and truly upon the land and the jousting tournaments were in full swing. There was something about the season of budding new life, however, that left Violet feeling melancholy every year.
It always made her think of those lost to her - her sisters, whose lives had been cut down in their prime. Pretty blooms crushed into nothing by the uncaring people around them.
Spring also reminded her of what she'd lost in herself - the hope and optimism she'd once had.
She'd been forced to bury that Violet long ago and become colder and more calculating, to avoid being broken to pieces by a vicious court.
