Laila, the queen, stood in the fields of her home, of where she used to play with her brother and friends. But now, the fields were going to be covered with men and blood. Her red, waist length hair blew behind her and it made a soft rustle as it rubbed against her loose fighting shirt. Her thin gold crown glistened in the light of the sun that was rising up into sky. She then turned to her men, hopes renewed. She realized then most of them wore silver armor and dull mill underneath. The symbol of her land, a head of a horse, shown brightly by the rising sun of dawn. She pulled her sword out of her scabbard with a soft swish as the air connected with the leather. She raised her sword up high, catching the glint of the sun, as she waited for her men to draw their swords also.
Once all of them pulled their swords and held up their weapons she cried out, her voice carried by the wind, “This is our land, our home, our villages! This was a place of peace; this was a gentle and caring place! This land was filled with love, closeness to one another! But now, we stand on the fields were our children play, were we played as children, but we are here to have to peace shelter us once again! In this war, we will fight until the peace is restored! We will never give up our hope, not even if the last man is standing on this field! We fight for love, peace, and most important, our families!” In response to that her men yelled and banged swords against shields, the noise getting louder and louder until it was a roar.
Her horse reared and neighed restlessly. She turned and faced the other end of the field were her brother stood, his hair short and a strawberry-blonde in color. He waited for her to finish her speech until he started. He stole one last glance at his sister before he turned to his men and lifted their spirits also. His men roared and cried out, hope devouring their doubt.

Adean turned and jutted his sword forward signaling for his men to run forward and attack. His slick, black horse shot forward with amazing speed. His foot men charged forward right after him. Laila had her horse rear back as her cry tore out of her throat. Her horse shot forward, the hooves thumping in beat with her brother’s horse. They met in the middle of the green fields, swords clashing and clanging. An arrow whistled by just barely missing her side and horse. As the two sides clashed together, a jumble of men, weapons, blood, and the dead, the screams of agony rang out into the once quiet morning.

All the time she fought her brother the screams became louder and more were falling within seconds. She watched as her best friend, Gibs, the head guard and most trusted advisor, fell to the ground as one of her brother’s men threw a sword into his chest. Her vision started to blur as she turned back just in time and stopped one of her brother’s deadly blows. Their swords held into the air, as they listened to the pain and cries of both sides.

As brother and sister eyes met they realized at the same time that this war was pointless and had no reason for so many to lose their lives. And just then time seamed the pause for an eternity. Laila was the first to put her sword away in her sheath, blood still on her blade. Her eyes still locked gazes with her brother’s as she cried out to her men, “Stop this right now! We have found peace! Now let the two sides, the head of a horse and the tower, join together in one land that is once again peaceful. Let’s go.” Her brother turned to her and his eyes glinted with mystery.
“What are you talking about?”
He asked before she turned back around to face him, “What?”

She heard her brother sneer playfully, “CHECKMATE!” Only then did Laila’s eyes went from her brother’s gaze to the chess board as he moved his rook in place and Laila groaned, “You win yet again Adean.” They scooted out and started to laugh as they picked up the game board.