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Of Still Walls and Beating Hearts

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The start of a notion starts with many things at once.

There's the telling of a story, many rushed goodbye kisses, a promise to return, a million thank-yous, and the starting of a carriage with a giggling toddler gripping a black swan wing with awe.

And though those were the easy things, there was also the packing of a body into another carriage, a father praying his son remembers him, the bitterness of a mother who had poisoned more than she had let on before dying, and whisking away scattered nettles from a stray path.

No one puts the start of a notion into a history book. No one thinks to, because there was proof enough of everything. The scent of cloves hidden in the oldest books in the library said a million words, and the jagged edges on the Kingstone told a story without saying.

The story was this: a scared princess, 6 swans, a king under a spell, a cruel queen, and nettles. Stories did not normally change, but this one has.

Because now, the story went a little something like this: a soon to be queen, a soon to be king, 5 idiot princes, one delighted boy prince, a kind king, and a kingdom waiting to be reclaimed.

And the notion starts.