On the eve of the glorious day, the princess was restless.  As much as she was anticipating being joined to her beloved Ray, she was feeling the pressure of the hopes and expectations of their families and of the people.  She saw in their hearts just how important what they were undertaking truly was. 
Reminders were in the eyes of every person she passed. 
The more people that were around her, the darker the clouds in the sky became.  The pressure she felt caused small ripples of thunder.  Louder and louder her frustration rolled until she decided to make her way to the central tower, to the pinnacle of Hope.
Ray knew that she would be there, the place that nobody else would be on the eve of such a monumental day, and so began to head there himself.
Alone in the dark, Moira paced.  With each deep breath she took, the thunder quieted and the clouds began to disperse.  Her pacing slowed to a stop, allowing her to wholeheartedly relax and gaze out over the bustling castle bellow.
She shivered.
The sun had dipped below the horizon and the cool air of night was upon her.
“Feeling better?”
She smiled at the sound of her future husband’s voice.
A smile that froze as she beheld his face.
A bolt of lightning struck the pinnacle of Hope.
The city had only seen unnaturally occurring lightening twice before, during the princess’s lifetime. 
The first time, during a game of hide and seek, when Ray had jumped out suddenly and scared her.  The second happened when she was falling asleep and a spider had scuttled across her face. 
On neither occasion had the flash of lightening been anything more than a single bolt.
The sky lit up, the bolt that hit the tower was enough to send tremors through every stone that constructed it. 
Halfway up the stairs, Ray saw the light, he felt the shaking, he began to run.  Filled with a deep dread and intense foreboding, never before had his feet carried him so fast.
The sky continued to flicker with bright, unrelenting light for less than half a minute before it abruptly stopped.
Still the desperate prince pushed forwards, not stopping even to catch his breath at the top of the steps.  He threw himself up, through the hatch in the roof.
She stood with her back to him, a stark silhouette against the rising moon.
He approached her cautiously, calling her name softly, yet she did not turn.
He stepped around so that he was in front of her.
Eyes closed and chin nodded slightly forwards, she looked to be in the midst of sleep walking.
“Moira.”
No flicker of reaction touched her face, so he gently raised his hand to cup her cheek.
The moment their skin met, she collapsed, her form seemed to crumple before his eyes.
It was his split-second reflexes that allowed him to follow her to the ground and catch her before she could take any damage.
There she lay in his arms, warm to the touch, yet completely unresponsive.
There he sat, arms wrapped around her, calling in turn for her to wake and for aid from bellow.

The following morning, the sun rose as it always had done and always will do.
The princess Moira, did not.