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Iskra Laelithar â Winter Court War General (617, Fae)
Iskra of the Permafreeze, born to the wastes beyond Silvenar. Born in the city to a mother who would not claim her and a father who would raise her without love, who would teach her to bare her teeth and shed hot blood on white snow. She is old now, old enough to remember the wildness of a world before a war for borders, where to live was to fight and to survive was to win. Her fatherâs lesson did not come from a kind hand, and as a result she did not become something kind. A weapon, forged like the spear of great ice she favoured in a fight, sharp and unforgiving, cruel and unrelenting. She would join the army when she learned of her sibling, the elder Laelithar, a confession that reached her ear only upon her fatherâs death, through lips that were shiny with red, bubbling and gasping. Two branches of a family tree, he managed to divulge, one for winter and one for autumn. She would find that family, all while working her way through the ranks of the army with ichor and teeth. A war provided opportunity, and through it she climbed until she reached the top, named War General and left to command. Travel to the other courts in the pursuit of treaties gave her a glimpse of a mother who had not stayed, and another sister who she did not know. Iskra is loyal to the army second to the land of which she was raised, and she would fight until the bitter end to protect that frozen earth she calls home. Her greatest asset are the Wolves, the superior fighting force that she created by accident. Lost girls and broken women form the ranks, purposeless until she found them, trained by Iskra herself in the dark woods. They are united on a battle field, vicious as a pack of wild animals, and very few can claim to have walked away once the Wolves have been set on their heels. They have become her sisters and her daughters, more dear to her than anything in the world, the weak spot in her swollen, frozen heart. Iskra is sharp-tongued and precise, and ill-suited for court politics. She bites and doesnât bother with niceties, taking what she wants and tolerating little nonsense.
Iseult Carseris â Night Court High Lady (531, Fae)
The succession of the Night Court is a bloody tradition. To succeed the High Court, one must remove all other heirs to the position. War raged around the camps of the High Court of Night on the day Iseultâs father died, taking a grievous wound that could not be healed with any herb or magic. From his last breath she would take her brotherâs, three boys built like oxen, raised to be strong contenders. She had never been given the opportunity, a girl, born last, like an afterthought of her weak mother. Her mother, who had been murdered by her eldest brother not but twenty years prior, to prevent the birth of anymore potential heirs. So, like a snake in the grass, she did not wait for an execution. Kaius, her spymaster, held down their shoulders while she held the knife. When she emerged from the tents, her blade dripped with ichor, but she did not cry out for the loss of her brothers. Her teeth were grit, and her eyes wild with the newfound power. High Lady Iseult, and her legacy of blood. She would clean out her fatherâs court of anyone who questioned her, a woman holding this much power, and replaced them with only the most loyal of soldiers. The war would be fought with her at the heart of it, her sword flashing silver and her magic condemning the minds of unprotected enemy soldiers around her. Her victories would win the army over. Her strength would garner their belief in her. Now, war feels so very far away. She itches for it, like fingers toying over a wound healed badly. She craves violence and cruelty, and she holds no love for humans, believing the war for borders to be unfinished. Sheâs a hard ruler to negotiate with, and with the Illyrian army backing her, it is difficult to refuse her. It is no secret that life in her court is a difficult one for the small or the meek, and those who abandon it for greener pastures live in fear, marked for death and vengeance for their betrayal.Â
Ilenia Baraze â Mortal Kingdom Princess (26, Mortal)
Len, the princess that should not have been. Bastard born to a serving girl, the offspring of the Mortal Landâs king, her arrival to the world was hidden and kept as a secret. The Queenâs cruelty was well known to those who threatened the line of succession and her own children. For safe keeping, her mother had whispered, voice hoarse with grief, pressing the wrapped bundle of her into the arms of the Summer Courtâs War General, a secret to be kept. He was nearly a stranger to the woman, visiting for a conference between rulers, but in the face of certain death she would have to trust him. Raised in warmth in the full embrace of the sun, Len was raised by teachers and nurses, all fae who could not relate to the delicate and brief life a mortal lived. It was her introduction to court that had her shine. She lived for party after party, forsaking Cassianâs best efforts to raise a respectable young lady. She would have been content to burn out in that way, in a meaningless existence in the pursuit of nothing but joy. Her half-brother, the future King, had other plans. He had her found, and had her return to the Mortal lands, far from what she has known. Now a princess, Len is certain that somehow, this is all a grand mistake. A slip in paperwork of some kind. Sheâs incredibly unserious about the whole thing, and is still in the pursuit of a never ending good time.
