ok go

Cool! Can't wait to see the first part :D

Iver

Iver stood outside Princess Riia’s room, a spear in his hand. He stayed focused, continually glancing around him, always watching. No noises were coming from the princess’s room. She was sleeping, as was the rest of the castle. It was late, later than he should have been up, later than was healthy. He didn’t care. He was tasked with protecting Princess Riia from all harm, and the rebellion couldn’t function without her. For many years, the land of Vermillion had fought back against a villain named Hemren, who, along with his army of crystal-fueled robots, had taken control of half the world. Iver had been tasked with protecting the princess of the Corale Kingdom. The Corale Kingdom was now the last standing kingdom, and Princess Riia, with her constantly bubbly and happy attitude, was a beacon of hope for the rebellion. 

Iver sighed quietly, his eyes drooping. He then straightened quickly, his spear clanging awkwardly against the stone floor. His relieving guard turned the corner, smiling at him confusedly. “You can go sleep, now, Iver,” he said, obviously wondering why Iver voluntarily stayed up so late. Iver nodded, patted the young soldier on the shoulder, and left, leaning his spear against the wall near the princess’s doors on his way out. He strode towards the guards’ quarters, yawning and stretching his tired, aching limbs. 

“Hey,” he greeted a few other guards who had also been relieved from their posts. They nodded in his direction, rubbing tired eyes. They, unlike him, had been chosen for the first watch. Iver had volunteered. 

As he left the palace, Iver glanced up at the sky. Corale Kingdom was dangerously close to the Captured Line, or the line past which the land was held by Hemren, and it showed in the sky. Far to the east, the sky changed abruptly from deep blue to a pale green-gray color, looking as if a storm was perpetually coming. On the west of the Captured Line, the sky was serene and beautiful, splattered with stars, galaxies, and nebulas. Iver looked down at his feet, not willing to stare at the constant reminder of the hard life he was now forced to live.

He pushed open the heavy door of the guards’ quarters and stepped quietly into the dark hall. His footsteps echoed off the walls, sounding ominous and metallic. He shook his head to rid himself of the pessimistic thoughts and stretched again. Darkness crept further into every corner as he entered his room. As he fell into the release of sleep, he could feel that something was coming, but he was too tired to stand up again.

You had me at "Princess" and "rebellion?" Sounds intriguing, can't wait for more!

Riia

Riia woke, heaving from exertion. She threw off her covers and combed back her thick blonde hair with her fingers. The pain of fourteen years pounded in her head, throbbing and moving like an living thing free from her. Princess Riia had been born weak. The pain that she’d felt since her birth had compounded in her body her whole life, never released. The hardest time to keep it in was the morning, when she wasn’t quite aware enough to consciously hold back the tides. As she struggled out of bed, she mentally pushed down the rising redness and dressed formally, as usual. Her crown pulled her hair into pigtails at the sides, and the smooth, circular gem in the very center glimmered with the rising sun’s light. 

Finally, after taking a few deep breaths and readying herself for the day to come, she knocked twice on her heavy doors to indicate that she was coming out. The guards outside her doors pulled them open wide. She stepped into the wide palace hall and turned towards the kitchens. She knew her parents were most likely still eating breakfast, and she wanted to say good morning to them before they left for the makeshift village just outside the palace. The village was where the rebellion was staying, for the most part. The village had been a small one before the war, but it was now large and consisted mainly of tents and hasty cabins, most of which were built to fit more than one person. Riia’s parents, the king and queen of Corale, liked to be in the field, working and helping the rebellion. They, or really just her father, preferred that Riia stay in the palace, where she’d be safe and sheltered. Riia had to reluctantly agree.

The kitchens were bustling with activity when Riia entered. People flitted here and there, carrying food to the multitudes of people gathered in the dining areas just past the kitchens. Riia found her mother directing several cooks to carry food to the guards’ table and hugged her from behind. The queen started, then turned around and smiled at her daughter. 

“Good morning, Riia,” she said, ruffling Riia’s hair. She then quickly turned back around and yelled “Watch it, there, with the oatmeal!”

Riia sighed and went into the dining room to find her father. He was sitting at the head of the largest table, laughing at a joke a soldier next to him had said. Riia had always admired that about the king; the ability to calm down everyone around him. She sat in the empty chair next to his, quietly listening to his conversation with a guard a little further down the table. 

“Sire, do you think a pincer attack on Hemren’s forces might prove succesful?” an inexperienced young planner asked. 

The king tilted his head to one side thoughtfully. “Well,” he said slowly, “you’d have to show me a battle plan map first to make it official, but I think that could bring us the lead we’ve been needing.”

The young planner grinned and nodded happily, trying to keep her face solemn- and official-looking. As she started on the food in front of her, Riia’s father turned to face her. “My Ri!” he smiled at her and gently punched her shoulder. 

“‘Morning, Dad,” she grinned back at him, though she had a feeling it looked more like a grimace.

“So? How’s my baby doing this morning?” he asked. Riia groaned.

“Da-ad! I’m not a baby anymore!” she groaned laughingly. “I’m fine,” she added after, though the throbbing, pounding pain in her body begged to differ.

The king stared at her quizzically, as if silently asking for more information, but when Riia didn’t give it, he responded, “Alright then, if you’re sure you’re fine, I want you to listen to the people’s concerns this morning. Your mother and I are going to the village.” 

Riia nodded, not trusting herself to speak as a wave of pain overtook her mind. She shoved it back, then said, “Of course, Dad. I can do that.” 

Sorry for making you read so much, Admins.

The Black Castle

The roiling gray-green clouds overhead seemed ominous and threatening. Hemren stared up at them, then turned and started into what had formerly been the Aspen Palace, and was now the Black Castle. The thick-walled building behind the castle shook and emitted several strange noises. Hemren jumped, then shied away from the building and halfway into the castle.

The Midway and Halfway shimmered a pearly, dangerous white, displaying its magic for all to see. Not that there were many people to see it, anymore. Half of Vermillion was populated only by an army of robots, Hemren, and… well, Hemren didn’t want to even think his name for fear of retribution. Besides, he wasn’t there all the time, though Hemren wasn’t sure where he went otherwise. Inside the Black Castle, the walls were dark and forbidding. The click-click noises of thousands of robots echoed down the empty halls. Hemren entered a room filled with screens and blue lights that continued to confuse him even now. He sighed, building up his confidence, and his hand drifted instinctively towards the intricate, thin black collar on his neck and shoulders. A leftover shock of energy ran through his hand, and he flinched, immediately frightened. It took all his willpower not to cower and hide. 

He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down. Once his logic was in charge once again, he stepped forward and tapped a flashing red screen. It blinked several times until it finally turned black as smoke. Hemren shivered, then stood perfectly still, waiting. Waiting for something he knew he would not and hadn’t ever enjoyed. And then it came.

“Ah, Hemren,” a voice said. The voice was soft and quiet, but it slithered its way through Hemren’s body and made him flinch and shiver again.

“I take it you have come up with a plan, then,” the awful voice said. “Good for you. Let’s hope, for your sake, that it works.” Hemren nodded and waited until the screen turned red again. Then, he sighed, relieved, and collapsed to the cold stone floor. This exchange had been shorter than usual, and he was glad of it.

Hemren next programmed new commands into the joined databases of his robot army. His plan would, he hoped, work well in subduing the rebellion. He had, long ago, pushed down emotion, but it was always at this stage that he began to feel sorry for the people who he knew would try to stop him. I don’t have a choice, he reminded himself. It’s them or me. 

Once he was done with all the preparation, he test-ran his code. It seemed faultless. He took a deep breath, then pressed a nearby button. He coughed into his elbow and looked down at his now-bloody sleeve. It’s getting worse, he noted. He squeezed a plastic tube that ran into his chest. A burst of a clear, viscous liquid rushed through the pipe and into his body. He took a quick, sharp breath, then let it out slowly. The relief was immediate. 

With a sigh, he exited the flashing room and then the Black Castle. The air outside was hot and muggy. The clanking noises of metal against metal reached his ears, and he turned and watched as a pulsing mass of robots came closer and closer. As they passed him, he could see bright flashes of light when robots passed through the Midway and Halfway, and into the land of the rebellion.

Iver

During breakfast, Iver desperately tried to remember the feeling he’d had the night before. He knew it was something important, but he just couldn’t remember. He finally shrugged inwardly and, once he was done eating, he went out to the rebellion’s village. Young, aspiring fighters formed a trail behind him, daring each other to touch his sword or spear or the helmet hanging from his belt. Iver smiled at them. 

“Hi, kiddos!” he exclaimed. Several of them jumped and shied away, but Iver kept grinning. “If you want to play fighting, I think there’s a good pile of sticks at the central fire.” The kids squealed and ran off towards the center of the village. Iver’s smile slid off his face. Those children had been born during the war. They had never known anything else, and all they wanted to do was fight. Curse Hemren, Iver thought, condemning these kids to a life of pain.

Just outside of the village was a barren, dusty field. A few dedicated soldiers were already there, swinging their weapons of choice at charred, scarred wooden dummies. “Hey, guys!” Iver called out to them, dropping his things on a bench. Several of them waved at him, then turned back to their practicing. He shrugged and picked up his short sword. Choosing a dummy, he moved over to it, rolled his shoulders a few times, then moved quickly into a series of fluid, deadly movements, cutting and stabbing at the training dummy. Splinters flew, and Iver dodged them effortlessly.

The day grew hot and bright, and the sky was cloudless. Iver wiped the sweat from his forehead, then looked around. The training area was full, but everyone who had been there when Iver had come was gone. He sat down on his bench and gathered his things. Hefting his spear and helmet, he left and began walking towards the center of the village. As he walked, he hung his helmet back on his belt, slipped his sword into its sheath, and flipped his spear upright. 

The center of the village was bustling and loud. Children played, and people cooked and talked and polished weapons. A few younger guards showed off, sparring in front of a crowd of children. Iver smiled at the sight and sat near the large central fire. Sweat immediately began forming on his face, but he still waited until a plate of food was pushed into his hands. He grinned up at the gifter, a blushing young woman. “Thanks,” he said genuinely. She smiled and blushed even harder, then fled to the other side of the fire. He watched her going, smiling. It was good to see that life could go on, even in the middle of a war.

The meat and vegetables on Iver’s plate steamed and let off a delicious scent. He looked down at them and sighed contentedly. Digging in, he shoveled the food in his mouth and watched as a few younger children carefully chose thin, straight sticks and began whacking them against each other in a mock sparring bout.

Once he had finished eating, Iver stood and stretched. He washed his plate off in a bucket of soapy water and lay it to dry on a rack near the fire. Weaving through the knots of people and stopping to talk to some, he made slow progress through the crowd. Finally, however, he reached Corale Palace. He pushed open the huge, polished wooden doors and made his way to the largest room in the palace; the throne room. As he strode, he put his helmet on and adjusted his posture so he’d look more commanding. 

Princess Riia sat on her throne, a line of villagers and soldiers in front of her. Iver heard someone call, “Hemren needs to be caught! And executed, if possible.” She looked away and shook her head a bit, but the gesture was lost on the villagers. Does she really think Hemren doesn’t deserve death? Iver thought. Does she think he’s redeemable? 

Oh, well. It’s not my business. He made his way up towards the throne. “Move back, move back,” he called. The people stepped back a ways, and Iver could see a few disgruntled faces. He stood next to the princess, who looked at him, relieved and thankful. He smiled and nodded at her to continue, and she beckoned forward the next person.

Riia

“Your Highness,” the old man bowed deeply. Riia flinched and pushed herself to the back of her throne. Royal etiquette had been done away with back when the princess was very young, and she was unused to people treating her like the royalty she was. True, she’d always had admirers, and the people looked up to her as a beacon of hope and truth. But this old man proved that habits are hard to break. She nodded for him to speak, and he began, “I believe we’ve gone too long without an attack. I suspect Hemren and his forces will be coming soon.” 

Riia nodded again. “I believe my father has been planning a counterattack with his generals. Today, in fact. So we will be acting soon.”

The old man shook his head. “No, I think we need to take action even sooner than that.”

“And what do you suggest we do?” Riia asked him. “The village and the palace are fortified and protected, and our forces are ready. All we need is a battle plan; we cannot act until we have one.”

The old man shrugged, and Riia sighed. “What’s your name?”

The old man told her, and Riia wrote down his name and his concern on a scrap of paper near her. Then, she signaled for the next person to come forward. But just as the villager was about to speak, shouts came from nearby. Riia stood up immediately. “What is it?” she called as a soldier burst into the room, his carefully polished sword swinging in its sheath on his belt. 

“The robot army is here!” he yelled.

The room dissolved into chaos. Over the screams of the more peaceful villagers, and the sounds of soldiers and guards stampeding out to get their weapons and armor, Riia could hear the old man saying, “I told you so!” childishly.

Iver, Riia’s personal bodyguard, jumped to protect the princess from the charging crowd, pushing her back onto her throne and standing in front of her. Once the room had emptied, Iver let out his breath audibly and stepped away. “Stay put,” he warned Riia, before dashing off to help fight. Riia sighed. She was done with cowering inside while the others were fighting and getting hurt. She’d go out and help get all the non-fighters out of the way. And with that decision made, she headed out of the palace.

It was even more chaotic outdoors than it had been in the throne room. Metallic, spherical robots clanked around, their sharp middle blades spinning wildly. Riia dry-heaved and looked away from the fighting, wondering if coming out of the palace had been a good idea. Of course, it was, she reassured herself. Now I can help people. 

She found her way into the village. Several homes were on fire, and screams pierced the air. Riia looked around, suddenly seeing a young boy trapped under a fallen beam. She ran over to him and struggled to lift the beam. The boy looked up at her. “Princess Riia?” he said disbelievingly. “My mom said you’re supposed to stay in the castle ‘cause you’re sick.”

Riia smiled at him. “This time, I’m here to help.” She yanked harder and lifted the beam enough to let the boy out. He crawled towards her and stood up, carefully testing each leg to make sure it wasn’t broken. Then, he smiled up at her. 

“Thank you!” he said shyly, before running off into the village. 

“Wait!” Riia called after him. “Where are your parents?” The boy turned.

“They’re home,” he yelled back. “I’m gonna go home.” 

Riia’s face screwed up. She knew there must be something she was missing, but she shrugged inwardly and gestured to the boy that he could go on his way. As he rounded the corner of a half-broken house, Riia remembered. “But- don’t go off alone! It’s not safe! Is your house one of the broken ones?” But the boy was already out of range. Riia stood still for a moment, then started after the boy. Before she could reach him, her legs gave out and pain began spreading through her body. The stress of the battle had caused her to forget to repress the throbbing, convulsing organism that was her pain. She took a deep breath and pushed the tide down, standing up and starting forward again. This time, something grabbed her from behind. She struggled against it and screamed. Several guards ran up to help her, Iver among them.

“Why are you outside, Princess?” Iver yelled over the clanking protests of the robot that held her. 

“I just wanted to help,” she murmured, tears welling up in her eyes.

Iver couldn’t hear her over the chaotic noises all around, and he just kept tugging. But Riia could feel him and the other guards giving way. The robot had quickly learned that it had an advantage in its ability to keep pulling without losing stamina, and it was slowly winning the tug-of-war battle. “You’re not going to be able to pull me back,” Riia called. “Let go! Go help others. I’m not worth it.” Iver looked at her in shock, but his face fell as he realized she was right

“You are worth it,” he told the princess, before giving one last experimental tug. “I’ll come and find you, I promise.”

“Find me? I thought this bot wanted to kill me,” Riia asked. Iver shook his head.

“We can still hope. Besides, these robots usually would just chase someone, blades out, if they wanted to kill. This one’s been given orders to capture you.” Riia twisted painfully around to look at the robot holding her. An arm had shot out of its metallic body and was holding her around the waist. A hole was quickly opening up in the robot, and she let out a breath.

“I’ll be brave,” she told Iver. “Don’t follow me without a plan.” With that, the robot dragged her into its empty middle and shut the door, engulfing her in darkness. She could feel the robot beginning to move, and she sighed. She smoothed her hair and clothes and rubbed her eyes, which were streaming from the smoke. She had to be ready to enter the captured side of Vermillion.