The chef ran through the night, clutching the son of the assassinated king.
Her entered the kitchen building in a mad dash as the palace behind him started to give off an eerie orange glow. He cringed, trying not to envision the beautiful castle full of relics and mementos going up in flames. Thankfully the baby was asleep, else he might have been caught.
He pulled his favorite soup pot off the shelf and gently place the softly snoring infant inside. Adjusting the blanket around the little one tenderly, he let a tear fall down his face. Tonight was the end of an era that had brought peace to the nation. And the end of a king who had been loved and revered by all. Placing the pots lid on top, effectually concealing the prince, the chef stepped out the back door of the kitchen and fled away from the scene of the heinous act that had just taken place. Their king may be dead, and Lord only knew the extent of the damage, but the prince would remain safe, if it was the last thing he did.
I have a love for medieval/fantasy without magic and this took me right back to one of my first attempts at a novel (don’t worry, it is still slated for publication at some point) I loved writing that story and it is still so dear to my heart. I enjoyed writing this as much, and again, this is one I could totally spin and keep working on.
What did you think of this prompt? Let me know in the comments! I love hearing from you!
By God’s Grace,