Like a simple wildflower, standing strong through rain, wind and hail, love, finally, had its way, and it was content.

Fawn and Gabriel stared at her in wonder, for only passionate dreams could ignite a timid soul.

He never wanted to be king, and it was that very trait that made him a great king. It was the characteristic comprising all extraordinary leaders. To Black, power, fame and wealth were meaningless, like grains of sand spilling through his fingers. It wasn't pride that drove him to the throne, but honor. He had to do it, simply because it was right.

He never wanted to be king, and it was that very trait that made him a great king. It was the characteristic comprising all extraordinary leaders.

War was a terrible, fickle thing–an eternal, horrendous nightmare for those who lived it, and a thing easily forgotten by those who didn’t.

It was a glistening citadel of limestone, hard and smooth with creamy whites and speckled grays. This was, no doubt, the place mighty kings called home, and with awe, it stole Fawn’s breath away.

He was aware that darkness could take root in pristine gardens, and even good men could fall to shadow.