She was a defiant little girl who thought she could rule the world. With every step she took since the age of fifteen and her arrival into the grandest city in the Regalian Empire, her head had been held higher than she ever earned to. She strode with a step that was undeserved, that came with the pampered life of being raised by a jewel covered hand. Her hands were free from blood, they were pale and uncalloused for she had yet to drive her nails into the dirt to fight her way to the top.
So she appeared to those that glanced at her from the corner of their eyes. The young Ithanian that demanded respect when it all felt undeserved: but why was it?
At the age of fifteen, a defiant little girl entered Regalia, free from the hawk-eye of the Ithanian court to instead live in the protection of her elder sisters. Within two weeks of her arrival, the city was overthrown in a rush of terror as the dead woman Lo rose to power. Fear pressed its fingers for the first time against the girl's skin. She knew what it was like to be afraid for more than oneself but she did not run away to hide in her estate. Instead, she picked up a blade and got to work.
The smart alec of a girl fought to survive besides those there. The Queen fell and life returned to peace, but she was already changed: war ran through her veins. She wanted to fight, she wanted to command. A girl of sixteen, she clawed her way to the top as a Vigilant Maiden until her age brought her tumbling down. The girl trained; spinning and waltzing as much as she did on the ballroom floor with a blade made of steel.
She had no time for love while it found its way to her life, she fought without hesitance to protect the city she thought was hers. She gained her scars; a crooked nose, a crescent moon. Her family grew smaller with death and betrayal. She married to escape it, but marriage was soon ended by blood loss.
The world felt gloomy as only her daughter remained.
So life ticked by slowly until she convinced herself to leave. She escaped her gloom with a slammed door, locking it behind her with a key she threw away. She returned to that life; collecting scars in basements and street fights with no-good criminals. Her temper became controlled, and she began to think clearer.
She knew in her mind she was still little and young, but no. Her hands were not clean of blood. She was not innocent, though still her tongue was sharp. A little defiant girl surrounded by the want of fortune was now a bold woman with a plan to gain it.
She was a defiant little girl who thought she could rule the world. With every step she took since the age of fifteen and her arrival into the grandest city in the Regalian Empire, her head had been held higher than she ever earned to. She strode with a step that was undeserved, that came with the pampered life of being raised by a jewel covered hand. Her hands were free from blood, they were pale and uncalloused for she had yet to drive her nails into the dirt to fight her way to the top.
So she appeared to those that glanced at her from the corner of their eyes. The young Ithanian that demanded respect when it all felt undeserved: but why was it?
At the age of fifteen, a defiant little girl entered Regalia, free from the hawk-eye of the Ithanian court to instead live in the protection of her elder sisters. Within two weeks of her arrival, the city was overthrown in a rush of terror as the dead woman Lo rose to power. Fear pressed its fingers for the first time against the girl's skin. She knew what it was like to be afraid for more than oneself but she did not run away to hide in her estate. Instead, she picked up a blade and got to work.
The smart alec of a girl fought to survive besides those there. The Queen fell and life returned to peace, but she was already changed: war ran through her veins. She wanted to fight, she wanted to command. A girl of sixteen, she clawed her way to the top as a Vigilant Maiden until her age brought her tumbling down. The girl trained; spinning and waltzing as much as she did on the ballroom floor with a blade made of steel.
She had no time for love while it found its way to her life, she fought without hesitance to protect the city she thought was hers. She gained her scars; a crooked nose, a crescent moon. Her family grew smaller with death and betrayal. She married to escape it, but marriage was soon ended by blood loss.
The world felt gloomy as only her daughter remained.
So life ticked by slowly until she convinced herself to leave. She escaped her gloom with a slammed door, locking it behind her with a key she threw away. She returned to that life; collecting scars in basements and street fights with no-good criminals. Her temper became controlled, and she began to think clearer.
She knew in her mind she was still little and young, but no. Her hands were not clean of blood. She was not innocent, though still her tongue was sharp. A little defiant girl surrounded by the want of fortune was now a bold woman with a plan to gain it.
This site uses cookies to help personalise content, tailor your experience and to keep you logged in if you register.
By continuing to use this site, you are consenting to our use of cookies.
