It was a cold and unforgiving winter night. The wind was howling and snow fell as fast as the wind could push it. And inside the castle walls, there were fires burning in the hearths and candles lit in the rooms, but there was one lit up more than any other. That room belonged to the son of the king which was up and listening to his father tell him stories, for he was but a mere 12 years of age sitting next to his father on his bed, looking at his father with a determined look on his face. "Father, tell me the story about me, and how I'm so special..." the prince asked. The king looking at the boy, "Haven't you heard this story enough times my boy? Besides, you already know it by heart." As the king puts his hand upon the boy's shoulders and nods to him, telling him that he was leaving. "Of course, I know the whole story, but I like to hear it from you because of the wording and the feeling of everything you say can bring life to it and make it realistic. whereas I can only remember what you tell me and nothing more... you know almost everything about the history of our people and where we came from. So please tell me the story one more time." as the young prince got into his bed readying himself for a final story. "Very well then, one more time and no more. Deal?" the father said. "Deal!" replied the prince
"It all started two years before I was born which everyone knows it as the day of the fallen or: "The day that turned bright". For that was the day he, or should I say your grandfather, fell from the heavens. The whole sky lit up with a bright furious light as He came crashing down with a crimson glint, fading as he came closer to the earth. By the time he finally hit the ground all that remained of his clothing was the beautifully embroidered plate-mail that once belonged to the Arch-angels. The only difference between the armor of the heavens and his was the fact that he didn't have the pauldrons that produced the angelic wings that all high angels had. He had only the one, and that one that was left was cracked on one side. His sword which he had was several inches deep in a large stone which is still there to this day..." As the king grabbed his cup and drank from it a bit before continuing. "because no man could pull it out, not even your Grandfather. but there will come a day where that sword will be pulled out and depending on who pulls it will determine the course of the world by either destroying it or protecting it. As for the fallen angel... well he was brought to this very city, actually... , it was a town before it was a kingdom but, he was brought to our great tavern: the last star, where he was then nurtured back to health."
As the king looks out the window and into the cold winter storm with a grim expression. "so? what about the angel, what became of him after he was nurtured back to health?" the prince asked excitedly. "When he was able to move on his own he would wander around the town three times before going back to the tavern daily, then at noon, he would sit staring at the sky as if something or someone was about to come from it. Finally, at the end of dinner, he would go to his room without a word and begin praying for about three-to-four hours before going to bed. That all changed when the day he met your grandmother." the king said with happiness in his voice. his expression then turned dark with pity and anger "But the angel didn't realize the pain and suffering that he will go through was waiting right behind all the love and happiness he had when he saw you grandmother" the king's voice full of anger and remorse as he turned toward his son. "i'm sorry SilverTongue, but we'll continue it tomorrow night, OK?" its fine dad, we can continue it tomorrow." as the boy covers up and shuts his eyes falling asleep. The king gets up from the bed and kisses his son and walks out closing the door behind him. after a good half hour he finally closes his eyes for a final time going into deep sleep, then there was only black.